


Velek and Mavis Go on an Adventure

by TomFooleryPrime



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Call to Adventure, Comedy, Comedy of Errors, Companions, Dark Comedy, F/M, Friendship, Partners to Lovers, Pon Farr, Self-Discovery, Strangers to Lovers, Tropes, Unconventional Relationship, V'tosh ka'tur, Vulcans, conflicting personalities, personality clash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-10-07 07:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17362034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomFooleryPrime/pseuds/TomFooleryPrime
Summary: Despite his fundamentalist Vulcan parents, Velek has big dreams of being an actor. The only dream Mavis has is getting the hell off that swampy V'tosh ka'tur colony world. A chance meeting sets in motion the adventure of a lifetime for the two misfits, leading them to discover the difference between who they are and who they want to be.





	1. Nebor's End

**Stardate 2257.170  
** **Vulcan Ship** **_Nor Kala'th_ **

" _Because our love fits like a glove and I just can't get enough of it_ ," Velek mumbled, tapping his fingers on the desk in time to the beat of the music and accentuating the last words.

He knew them all by heart. _Jolly Ship Jive_ was one of his favorite musicals, and that was really saying something because Velek adored musicals. Whether it was a consequence of having absent parents and a human nanny who loved to sing or whether he would have discovered his passion for musicals on his own, he really couldn't say.

Marco Damien's climactic solo was coming next and he restrained himself from belting it out in his rich tenor voice. The walls of this vessel were thin enough that he could often hear his supervisor, Tavek, moving around next door. With that thought in mind, he turned the volume down several decibels and returned to reading his personnel correspondence, still humming along to the music.

So many notices and advisories and reminders, many of which had come in during the past hour. He waved his hand over the screen to read the next, then realizing many were related to a single subject, adjusted his screen to read them in chronological order rather than most recent first.

**2202.71 hours  
** **Intra-ship communication**   
_From Tavek, Senior Aide to Ambassador Sarek — Lodgings for Babel Conference  
_ _Research lodgings for Babel conference next month and forward dossier on ten different locations to me._

Rather than launch into an investigation of rental dwellings on Babel, he decided to finish reading his messages. It was only logical, given Tavek's propensity to micromanage.

**2202.74 hours  
** **Intra-ship communication**   
_From Tavek, Senior Aide to Ambassador Sarek — Re: Lodgings for Babel Conference  
_ _It is essential these selections are within ten kilometers of the capital building._

**2202.79 hours  
** **Intra-ship communication**   
_From Tavek, Senior Aide to Ambassador Sarek — Re: Lodgings for Babel Conference  
_ _The Ambassador's security detail also requires rooms with at least two points of entry and the ambassador prefers them near the ground level, if possible._

**2202.90 hours  
** **Intra-ship communication**   
_From Tavek, Senior Aide to Ambassador Sarek — Re: Lodgings for Babel Conference  
_ _It is unknown if the ambassador's mate will accompany him, but the Lady Amanda prefers a room with a single large bed and windows with visually compelling vistas. It would be logical to preemptively identify quarters that have such amenities._

They went on like that. Fleeting thoughts and randomly remembered details streaming through his inbox, taunting him to forget just one of them.

When his father had secured him this posting last year, Velek never supposed it would be so time-consuming and demanding. Were it not for his father's risky politicking to get him this position, Velek would never have accepted it. Being the only child of parents who aspired to positions in life far elevated from the circumstances of their births was an incredible burden.

Officially he was the Personal Assistant to the Senior Aide of Sarek, Vulcan Federation Ambassador-at-Large; unofficially he had a title with a lot of words to describe carrying bags and fetching tea and finding hotel rooms the ambassador's wife would like. It was drudgery being the aide of an aide, but he was twenty-four and had recently graduated in the middle of his class with a degree in xenoanthropology from a mediocre regional university in Sokol. This job was the best he could hope for. In fact, it was a great honor to work for such an important man as Ambassador Sarek, even if only indirectly. His family reminded him of this often.

So did Tavek, his supervisor. Velek often thought his superior was the sort of man his parents would have preferred to have for a son. Like Velek, he didn't come from a particularly prominent family but had gained a position on Ambassador Sarek's staff and was keen to make a name for himself. Unlike Velek, he was tall, muscular, possessed attractive, masculine features and the most logical of dispositions. Velek had been his subordinate for fourteen months and also learned Tavek had graduated near the top of his class from the Vulcan Science Academy, was skilled in several forms of Vulcan martial arts, enjoyed sculpting, and was a Class III kal-toh master.

Tavek was a Vulcan's Vulcan, if ever there were one. Velek doubted whether Tavek had ever even had an illogical thought. He wouldn't be surprised if Tavek were to enter his quarters and inform him he'd just completed the kolinahr with almost no preparation and was about to publish a paper unifying all of physics, which he wrote in between teaching himself Ancient Golic Vulcan and composing a symphony for the Shi'Kahr Orchestra.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Jealousy was completely irrational. He was his own person with his own path to follow. It was illogical to wish he possessed any of Tavek's attributes.

He resumed perusing his messages, reading over details of the ambassador's negotiations with the Illiari to establish a new Vulcan colony on an outlying planet in the Yakaran system. The Yakaran system had seven planets with nineteen major moons. Four of those moons were suitable for supporting oxygen-dependent life and two of them already had established colonies. He didn't know this because he had any real interest in geography—he'd spent most of his first month on the job compiling that report of survey, a report which he doubted anyone really read it in all that much detail.

Regardless of whether anyone appreciated Velek's research efforts, the ambassador had been successful in exchanging twelve metric tons of dilithium for a continent on a remote moon and within the next three years, the first Vulcans would be calling Yakara VIII their home.

The mission was a success, though he wouldn't have cared much either way. Velek wished he were more invested in the work he did. Pride was illogical, but having some sense of achievement certainly wasn't.

He scanned another twelve messages from Tavek containing no new information of any value and just as he began to close his computer station and prepare for a very necessary rest period, another message arrived in his inbox. The title was stunning, the body of the message even more so.

**2319.14 hours  
** **Inter-relay communication  
** **Location of Origin: Earth, North American Continent, California, Los Angeles  
** **Sender: Barth, Jason  
** **Subject: Audition for Vulcan male**   
_I got your name from Keith Harriman. I do casting for Federation Troopers. Don't know if you watch it on Vulcan, but it's a serial police drama popular on Earth and a lot of outlying colonies. I got a five-episode part for a Vulcan medical examiner and would be willing to audition you next month. Let me know. Jason._

Velek read the message twice, intrigued that he would be contacted by a casting director he'd never met more than two years after he'd expressed interest in hiring Mr. Keith Harriman as an agent. That was back during a time when Velek had seriously considered becoming an actor, shortly after graduating from university and shortly before accepting his current position.

He had never told his parents about his acting aspirations—they would never approve. _Most_ people did not approve, as he had discovered. Earth seemed to be the primary hub for actors of all species, so he'd contacted nine different agents seeking representation. Five never replied, two asked if he was joking, one responded with a string of profanity, and the last one, Keith Harriman, wrote back to ask if he had any acting experience or head shots and upon learning he did not, promptly told him to come back when he had some acting experience and head shots.

It was a paradox. To become an actor, he needed an agent to represent him, but to get an agent to represent him, he first needed to be an actor. Acting didn't seem that difficult and he had an excellent memory for retaining lines from a script and songs.

It seemed so strange to him that Vulcan had many excellent schools and institutions for the arts, but very little in the way of performance art beyond instrumental music. Surak himself never explicitly condemned dance or theater, yet his people had spent more than a millennium utterly rejecting those art forms. To Velek, _that_ was illogical.

It bothered him more that all the Vulcans he saw in alien holofilms or holoprograms—whenever he could manage to stream them on Vulcan—were not Vulcans at all. They were humans with shaved eyebrows and prosthetics on their ears. The end result was always a grotesque caricature of a Vulcan, a laughable approximation who seemed to think Vulcan facial muscles lacked the ability to move and their vocal cords were incapable of making sounds of differing tones. Was that really how the rest of the Federation perceived Vulcans, as unanimated, interchangeable, monotone individuals without personalities?

He read Mr. Barth's message again and swallowed hard. It was painful to be presented with a sudden opportunity he could never seize. His hand hovered over the screen and the words, " _Computer, delete message_ " formed on his tongue, but in the end, he sighed and closed his computer. He needed to meditate.

" _Computer, dim lights to fifteen percent_ ," he murmured. He removed his outer robe and neatly folded it on the bed, then turned to face the wall and knelt.

A deep breath in, a deep breath out, then bedlam. The floor bucked hard beneath his knees, pitching him forward onto his hands and straining the bones and tendons in his wrist to a near catastrophic degree. The walls shook and the lights popped and fizzled into oblivion. The ship's inertial dampeners began to fail and he felt the room spinning faster and faster until a bright flash through the portal heralded the death of the warp engine.

Velek blinked and continued to breathe slowly, pondering how death would arrive. Would the antimatter containment field collapse and deliver an instantaneous end? Would a hull fracture depressurize the ship and result in a relatively quick but not altogether painless death? Or would the emergency force fields engage, leaving him to drift aimlessly in space and slowly starve?

"Velek!" shouted a man's voice.

He sat up and tried to adjust his eyes to the dimly lit room, which was illuminated only by strips of emergency lights on the floor and ceiling. Toran, the ship's navigator, was standing in his doorway. The man's eyes swooped across the image of Velek on the floor and he was ashamed to discover he was shaking.

"What has happened?" Velek asked.

There was no answer; Toran was already gone. Velek scrambled to his feet and staggered down the hallway on quaking legs, desperate to outwardly appear logical even if inwardly he was still reeling. He made it to the bridge to discover everyone else on board was already present. Toran was reviewing something on the central monitor while Sarek and Sovok, the ambassador's public relations liaison, was speaking to the pilot, a man with whom Velek was not acquainted.

Everything was the picture of calm, except for Tavek, who was pacing in tight circles in the cramped space. He seemed agitated, Velek thought. How very un-Vulcan of him.

Ambassador Sarek asked a question Velek could not quite make out, prompting Toran to respond, "We hit the subspace anomaly directly, ambassador. Ejecting the warp core before losing antimatter containment was the only logical option."

He trained his ears to the conversation and heard the ambassador reply, "Can we retrieve the warp core?"

"It sustained considerable and perhaps irreversible damage in the impact that is almost certainly beyond my skillset to repair."

"What does that mean for us?" Tavek barked.

Everyone on the small bridge turned to observe him. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were tinged green. How curious. The pilot spoke. "It means we are without the ability to travel at warp speed. Additionally, we are without the ability to travel at impulse for very long. The hull ruptured near the starboard deuterium cell and we have lost considerable power."

Tavek seemed to sense the others watching him closely and he stood a little straighter, clearly doing his best to project stoic decorum. "Can you restore it?"

"No," the pilot answered. "Though Toran and myself have moderate engineering experience, we lack the necessary tools. The damage to the hull is so significant it will have to be landed and repaired from the exterior of the ship."

Velek was so fascinated by watching his superior's discomfort that he failed to immediately recognize the dire situation they were all in. They were stranded in the middle of a very remote part of space.

"What is the nearest inhabited system?" Ambassador Sarek asked.

"The Yakaran system," Toran replied. "It is 3.72 lightyears from here."

"A distance that would take 249,469,386 years to traverse at full impulse," the pilot added.

A muscle in Tavek's forehead twitched, compelling Velek to look away. It was unpleasant, watching him become so emotional.

"Our situation is not quite as dire as it seems," Toran announced, taking a seat and affixing an earpiece. "We are receiving a response to our distress call from an Ithenite freighter."

The tightening in Velek's chest relaxed, which surprised him because he hadn't been aware it was there until it began to disappear. Ithen was a Federation member and an Ithenite ship would almost certainly come to the aid of a stranded Vulcan diplomatic vessel. This random incident with a subspace anomaly would be an inconvenience, not a death sentence.

When he looked at Tavek again, he noticed his supervisors' hands were shaking.

* * *

**Stardate 2257.174  
** **Nebor's End, Yakara II**

The sounds of a hoverbike tottering up the derelict lane to her property made Mavis uneasy. What fresh annoyance would it bring, if any? She glanced at her assembly of junkyard statues and not for the first time she wished they could magically come to life and chase away whatever hassle was about to land on her doorstep.

She dropped the trowel and flexed her fingers, hoping to get proper blood flow back into her lower digits. The ground wasn't frozen yet but there were traces of morning frost still clinging to the muddy grass. It seemed winter would come early this year and if she didn't dig up the potatoes and turnips now, there might not be much to eat by next spring.

Not that being hungry would be anything new. Mild famines were semi-routine in Nebor's End, the product of unpredictable weather patterns and a populace that after three generations had decided it preferred alcohol therapy to subsistence farming. If Mavis had to guess, half the damn potatoes grown in this swampy hell went into distillers to churn out vodka rather than stew pots to stave off hunger.

No one had ever actually _starved_ to death though, at least as far as Mavis knew. When things got really bad, like they did six years ago, the Federation would swoop in at the last minute with support and supplies, dropping off tons of genetically modified rice and peanuts and temporary compassion.

She felt bad but sometimes she wished another catastrophic disaster would happen just so the Federation would return and offer her some hope of escape. A ship hadn't even entered orbit of Nebor's End in more than five years. It was understandable—who in their right mind would want to come to this piss pot in the middle of nowhere?

When the first V'tosh ka'tur settlers had founded Nebor's End on an outlying moon in the Yakaran system ninety years ago, they had intended it to be a utopia for those fleeing persecution. V'tosh ka'tur literally meant Vulcans without logic, and the ones who settled Nebor's End were especially keen to ditch Surak and his logical teachings. Other misfits from other worlds eventually trickled in and now there were dozens of species living in Nebor's End, spread out over four main districts covering about a hundred kilometers. Nowadays it was only a utopia for people who loved poverty and long winters and depression.

"Hello there, Mavis!"

She gnashed her teeth so hard at the sudden interruption she worried they might break but she didn't turn around. She didn't need to: she knew exactly who it was. She would ask him what he was doing here in language heavily peppered with profanity, but he was a Tellarite and would probably like it so instead she sat up, dropped the spade into the dirt, and asked, "What do you want, Val?"

"I got a job for you."

A _job_ , that was laughable, Mavis thought. When she'd started apprenticing under T'Rika at the salvage yard thirteen years ago, she'd been a scrawny eleven-year-old who'd just dropped out of school and Val had been the mechanic. Then T'Rika died five years ago and must have been in a real drunken stupor when she wrote her will because she'd left the shop to Val.

"You've got a job?" Mavis tutted. "That's nice."

"I need you in the shop."

"You've got jokes," she scoffed.

"Ship landed about an hour ago. It hit subspace turbulence out in the Borderlands and was towed into orbit by Ithenite traders. Hull needs to be patched up and some of the interior needs repair too."

A ship? A ship was _here_ , in Nebor's End? Rather than let her deadbeat former employer know how excited she was, she shrugged and said, "Sounds like you have your work cut out for you."

"It's a big job and they're willing to pay well."

"Good, then maybe you can pay me what you already owe me."

"What I _owe_ you?" he sputtered.

"Yeah, for fixing Dee Henderson's refrigeration unit last week."

He chortled. "Is that why you haven't been coming to work?"

"Something like that."

"What about what you owe _me_ for teaching you how to turn a pneumatic wrench or weld this junk in your backyard?" He waved his hands around at Mavis' collection of scrap statues.

"I taught myself almost everything I know."

He scoffed but before he could contrive some weak rebuttal, she added, "And half the junk in this yard is stuff I took in trade instead of payment because you couldn't afford to pay me. No pay, no work. It's easy as that, Val."

He started to turn and walk back to his hoverbike and for a brief instant, Mavis feared Val had called her bluff. Of _course_ she wanted to work on this ship, not out of the need for cash but out of the hope that she could talk its owners into taking her with them. She didn't even care who they were; she'd hop in the cargo hold of a Klingon warbird if it meant a future outside of Nebor's End.

" _Gah_ ," he raged, turning around. "You can have twenty percent."

"Thirty."

" _Thirty_? _Robbery_ , that's what thirty percent would be."

"Thirty percent."

"Twenty-five."

"Twenty-five and I get the engine out of that old hovercar in the back of your shop."

His face turned sour but he gave a small nod. "Need a ride?"

She looked at his puffy belly and the tiny rear seat of the hoverbike and replied, "I'll walk."

She closed up the shack at the back of the property and nearly let herself out the side gate, but then decided to head toward the main house to check on her father first. With any luck, it might be the last time she ever saw him. She strode up the lopsided, rotting deck, skipping the broken middle step, and entered through the back to find her father sleeping on the couch. Empty cups with dried solkath residue littered the floor and a pungent urine smell drifted through the air.

Were cats nesting in the house again or had her father been so drunk that he actually pissed himself again? She didn't really care: she hadn't lived in the main house since she'd built the shed out back two years ago.

"I'm going out," she called, tiptoeing over rubbish on her way to the front door.

Her father grunted. At least he was alive.

She turned left off the property and headed North, passing Lahress and S'remel, her Caitian and Andorian teenage neighbors, on her way out of the lot. They were smoking some kind of foul-smelling substance and looked rather lethargic and confused but they waved to her as she passed. It took nearly twenty minutes to make it to the salvage yard, but the sleek, elegant ship was visible from the moment she turned out of the lane. It was large and silver and seemed to be attracting a lot of attention from the local residents, which made Mavis nervous. This was hopefully her ride out of here but knowing her neighbors like she did, it seemed entirely possible they could have this vessel stripped to the bolts in a matter of days.

When she reached the entrance to the yard, she found Val standing at the gate with his arms crossed. "You finally made it."

"Yeah. So whose ship is this anyway?"

"Some Vulcan hotshot. I mean the regular kind with the stiff haircut and the hand thing," he explained, forming his hands into a V-shape and waving them around. "Not like you Vosh Cater types."

"V'tosh ka'tur," she corrected.

She didn't actually speak much Vuhlkansu but that wasn't so strange. More than half the population of Nebor's End was Vulcan or of Vulcan descent but few people spoke their complex native tongue anymore, preferring instead the easier and more universal Federation Standard language.

"And where are these Vulcans?"

"Staying at T'Lia's place in town."

Mavis grinned. T'Lia's boarding house was a central hub in the district for prostitution and narcotics trading. "I'm sure they'll be quite popular there."

"I wouldn't expect to see them much."

Her heart sank. "Why not?"

"They're eager to get out of Nebor's End and plan to hole up at T'Lia's until we come tell them it's done."

"Well, can't blame them for wanting out," Mavis muttered, kicking the mud off her worn boots as she entered the yard.

He walked her around to the starboard side of the ship to show her a deep gash along the hull, then gave her a tour of the interior to show her where he thought they would need to stabilize the frame. Aside from the damage, everything was so smooth and shiny and neat. It was new. Nothing on Nebor's End had been new for years.

"What about the warp drive?" she asked.

"I guess they were able to salvage it," Val said, glancing toward the rear of the vessel. "The Ithenite crew helped them drop it in and it seems to work."

"And the impulse engines?"

"Hey, we're not being paid to make mechanical repairs, only structural ones. I don't care if this thing ever flies again as long as they pay me."

She rolled her eyes. "That's the spirit, Val. Prime customer service."

He wandered into a forward cabin and she placed her hand on the corridor wall and glanced in one of the rooms. It appeared to be sleeping quarters, as did the room next to it. She rapped a knuckle on the steel surface, delighted to discover the wall didn't appear to be solid. She could always measure later, but a quick guess suggested there might be as much as a fifty-centimeter gap between the walls. A plan began to form.

"I figure we could have it done in a few days," Val shouted from the other room.

Mavis frowned. "Nah, I think it'll take at least a week."

"A week? They're willing to pay more for faster service."

Mavis didn't care about the extra money. Yes, she would need a week for what _she_ wanted to do, anyway. She was getting out of here one way or another.


	2. What the Cat Dragged In

**Stardate 2257.175  
** **Nebor's End, Yakara II**

Velek chewed the inside of his cheek—an emotional tic that had plagued him throughout childhood and taken him years to learn to only do in private. He should probably meditate, but he was too anxious and excited, repeating the words of Mr. Barth's message over and over again in his mind.

He could already see himself in the role of a medical examiner. He would wear a white coat and stand in a laboratory with an array of scientific instrumentation. A clerk would rush in and deliver a line such as, "Doctor, a crime has been committed!"

He paused. Were Terran medical examiners referred to as "doctor" or "examiner?" Surely to become a medical examiner, a person would require medical training, but were they medical _doctors_? Velek wasn't sure.

As he pondered this, he noticed a person stumble across the street and fall to the ground. An oversized coat made determination of species and sex impossible, but when the person stood up and began urinating in the middle of the street, it became obvious the individual was both male and human.

It seemed strange that places such as this could exist within the Federation. The only thing more abundant than poverty in Nebor's End appeared to be apathy. They were staying in the closest thing to this district had to a hotel, which was a squalid boarding house run by a V'tosh ka'tur woman named T'Lia.

It was evident this establishment wasn't exclusively for customers who were seeking a place to rest though. Shortly before retiring to bed the previous evening, a Vulcan woman had arrived at the door asking if he would like some company. He told her no, not only because he was preparing to meditate, but also because she was a complete stranger.

She left without another word, but several minutes later there was another knock at the door revealing a Vulcan man asking if he would prefer his company instead. He was also politely turned away but then several minutes after that, an Andorian woman came to the door and he informed her in no uncertain terms that he had no desire for the companionship of strangers, _any_ strangers, and was forced to hang a sign on the door indicating this preference. People in Nebor's End were certainly very friendly and hospitable and he had no wish to offend them, but he preferred his privacy.

The man across the street fastened his trousers and waved to a woman crossing the street. Menacing clouds darkened an already gray sky and the threat of rain seemed all but certain. His mind drifted back to thoughts of Mr. Barth's offer of an audition and how badly he wanted to accept but how vehemently his parents would disapprove if they ever found out.

A rapping sound pulled him from his reverie and his first instinct was to ignore it—the neighbors in the room toward his left had been banging on the walls all night and yelling rather vulgar things—but his ears decided the sound was all wrong for it to be the occupants of the adjacent room engaged in coital activity. Someone was at the door.

Preparing to turn away another local citizen asking to befriend him, he was startled to open the door and discover Ambassador Sarek.

"Good afternoon, Velek."

Velek lifted his right hand in the ta'al and invited him inside. "How can I serve you, ambassador?"

Tavek generally served as an intermediary between them so it was peculiar to speak to the ambassador directly.

"I came to request you go check on the progress of the shuttle."

Velek gave a deferential bow of his head and waited for any other instructions the ambassador might have. It was surprising when he added, "Tavek is unwell."

"Would you also like for me to arrange for medical treatment?" he asked, doing his best to conceal his surprise at this development.

"That will be unnecessary. It is vital we depart from Nebor's End at the earliest opportunity. Please relay this to the engineers. I was assured the work would be completed by tomorrow and explained I would be willing to negotiate a higher fee for prompter service."

"Yes, ambassador."

He collected his cloak and walked the ambassador to the door, taking great pains to secure it behind him. The faded and peeling wallpaper was covered with graffiti of various styles, from elaborate and artistic to crude and offensive. Turning the corner to the stairs, he discovered a Vulcan man asleep on the landing and a rather raucous party forming on the ground floor of the boarding house.

Two Vulcan women wearing more makeup and fragrance than clothing passed him on the stairs, leading a well-dressed Kelpien man by both hands. Or perhaps it was more appropriate to say he was well-dressed compared to any of the other citizens he'd encountered in Nebor's End.

Velek was halfway down the stairs when another Vulcan woman, this one with thick locks of flowing purple hair, moved to block his path. She was moderately pretty, but there was a strange odor about her that he couldn't identify, neither foul nor pleasant but incredibly strong.

"You're cute," she said with a smile, revealing a row of crooked upper teeth.

"Thank you." He took a half step to the right, indicating he wanted her to allow him to pass.

"What's the deal with you and your friends?"

"Clarify."

"Why are you here?"

"We are guests in this boarding house while our vessel is being repaired."

"Yes, and you're taking up rooms that paying customers could be using."

"We are paying customers," he assured her.

"You paid T'Lia, but we work here too. You're cutting into _my_ bottom line."

"Bottom line?"

"I'm losing money because of you."

"If you are employees of this establishment, surely it is the responsibility of the owner to provide you with compensation for your services."

"I work on a contract basis. I actually pay T'Lia to work here. That room you're in, I can usually see five to six people a night."

"I- I do not understand."

She studied his face for a number of seconds until her lips released a small smile. "Wow, so that whole goody-goody logic thing really isn't an act?"

"Please, explain."

She rolled her eyes and stepped aside. "Oh honey, just go."

He walked the rest of the way down the stairs, through a pungent cloud of smoke and riotous laughter from several guests at the bar, and out into the pouring rain. He had little experience with this particular weather phenomenon but he also had little choice but to venture out into it. He lifted the hood of his cloak and slogged onward through the muddy streets.

In an effort to avoid a broken part of the road that was rapidly turning into a pond, he turned left onto a parallel street and nearly tripped over a man squatting underneath a canopy connecting two ramshackle roofs.

"Watch it!"

"I apologize," Velek instead.

The man raised his chin enough to reveal a hollow, sunken Andorian man with a split lip and a missing front tooth. "That's a nice coat you've got."

"Thank you," Velek said, taking a step back to indicate he wished to be excused.

"I could use a coat like that."

"It is a very good coat," he agreed.

"Why don't you give it to me?"

"Because it is mine and I require it."

"I bet you have more coats like that wherever it is you come from. You don't need it."

"Allow me to pass," Velek insisted.

He was hardly skilled in any forms of combat and was also quite small for a member of his race, but this Andorian man was small also. His eyes were glassy and he seemed unsteady on his feet and for perhaps the first time in his life, Velek felt confident he could defend himself against an oncoming threat. Unless the man had a weapon.

Velek strode quickly past him but kept glancing over his shoulder to ensure he wasn't being followed. The rain began to let up but the mud was an inescapable nuisance. The narrow alleyways between the haphazardly arranged structures were difficult to navigate and twice he had to turn around because he lost his bearings. When he turned right at a small shack with sopping wet laundry hanging on a line, he was certain he should have been deposited back onto the main thoroughfare through the village, but he was met with another intersecting alley.

"Hey, Vulcan! You got any food?"

Velek spied a pair of Caitian boys sitting on a rooftop. "No. Could you tell me where to locate the salvage yard owned by a Tellarite named Val?"

"Depends," said the younger one, sliding down the roof and onto the ground. "You got any food?"

"I am not carrying any food on my person, but I could get you some," Velek replied, horrified at the thought these two young boys lacked sufficient nutrition.

He rolled his eyes and hissed, "Piss off, Vulcan."

"I'll show you where Val's shop is," sighed the older one, leaping off the rooftop with surprising grace.

"Thank you," Velek said. "And I meant it when I said I could get you food. What kind of food do you prefer?"

The young man gave him a strange look. "Are you one of those real Vulcans?"

"I am Vulcan, yes."

"Yeah but one of the regular ones who doesn't have feelings and stuff?"

"I have emotions, I merely work to suppress them through the prudent application of logic."

"You talk really proper," his young companion grinned. "Bet you went to a really fancy school."

"Do you not attend school?"

The young man shrugged. "Sometimes. It depends. I stopped going a couple of months ago when Ms. Crosby had another baby."

"And Ms. Crosby was your professor?"

"I guess you could call her that."

"Are there no alternative instructors while she tends to her child?"

"Not since Varis died a few years ago when the South Patch flooded."

"Nebor's End appears to have a large populace."

"I think around thirty thousand or so."

"And there are there no other schools you might attend?"

"There's a few on the west side and another couple up in the northern district, but it would take half a day to walk there one way. Some kids do. They wake up hours before sunrise and start walking."

"Why do they not establish additional schools in this district?"

"What would be the point? You think I'm going to grow up and be some fancy scientist or doctor or something? You don't need to like history and writing and stuff to grow up and drink solkath and smoke krash."

"And that's what you plan to do?"

"Hey man, it's not what I want, it's what I know."

"You could leave Nebor's End."

"How? Moving is expensive. Besides, no one comes here even if I could afford to leave."

"I happen to know Vulcan plans to establish another colony on Yakara VII."

"Why? Because this colony turned out so great?"

"I mention it merely to explain that there will be more traffic in this region of space in the future."

"Maybe on Yakara VII. No one stops here unless they have to. Anyway, Val's shop is just over there. I'd bet money he's sleeping but Mavis might be out back."

"Thank you for your assistance," Velek said. He lifted his hand on reflex to give the traditional Vulcan salute but stopped when he realized the young man likely wouldn't return it. "It occurs to me I do not know your name."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and the tip of his tail twitched. "Why do you need to? You'll never see me again."

He nodded but before he turned to leave his young companion he said, "You know, the benefit of an education is that no one can ever take it away from you."

"And you can't eat an education," the Caitian laughed in reply. "Good luck, regular Vulcan."

"If you require food, I am staying at a boarding house near the center of the district operated by a woman called T'Lia," he added, but the young man had already turned to walk away and didn't respond.

The salvage yard had a building out front with a bowed roof and two windows flanking a crooked door. Inside he found the rotund Tellarite they'd dealt with yesterday morning leaning back in a chair, hands resting on his belly, and drowning in a slurry of snores. Following the advice of his Caitian guide, he journeyed to the back of the lot and saw movement beneath the belly of the massive diplomatic shuttle.

"Excuse me?" he called.

The person did not acknowledge him. He called several more times until they eventually stopped and walked to a location where he had a clearer view of them. In addition to heavy gloves and loose coveralls, the worker wore a large helmet, leading Velek to suppose they couldn't hear him. He let himself in through the gate and approached but halfway to his intended target, the person picked up a welding device and went to work on the deep fissure in the starboard side of the ship. Sparks flew from the molten stream of metal pouring from the tool in the engineer's hand but they appeared unfazed and wholly confident in their work.

"Excuse me?" he said, his voice louder than before.

The brilliant orange plume of liquid metal ceased and a hand went up to the helmet, pushing up the visor to reveal a Vulcan woman who possessed beauty he hadn't been prepared to see. Her eyes scanned him with disinterest at first, but a flash of recognition crossed her face and she smiled.

"You're Vulcan!" she declared.

What a strange thing for her to say. "So are you."

"No, I mean like _real_ Vulcan." She formed her gloved, free hand in the shape of the ta'al. "Val said we wouldn't be seeing you around here."

He returned the ta'al and replied, "Live long and prosper. I have come to inquire about the status of the work."

"It's coming along." She looked over her shoulder to the ship and shrugged. "I'd say it'll take about six more days."

"I believe my supervisor was assured the work would be completed by tomorrow."

"Val gave him a bad estimate. Val does that sometimes."

"Is there any chance of you completing this task sooner?"

The woman gave him a soft smile. "Maybe."

"Explain."

"Take me with you."

"I do not understand."

"I could probably get this finished by tomorrow if you agree to take me with you when you leave."

"I am not certain that is possible, however-"

"Why?"

"There is insufficient room aboard this vessel."

"Are you kidding me? It's a palace in there."

"We only have adequate supplies for six passengers."

"I'll bring my own food. Besides, whatever you were willing to pay Val, he agreed to pay me thirty percent so you could keep that portion. You know, to pay for my passage."

"It is not my decision to make."

"Whose is it then?"

"The ambassador's. Even if he were to allow you passage on the ship, I am not certain he can guarantee you entry to Vulcan. Are you a Vulcan citizen?

"No, but I'm a Federation citizen. Couldn't you just talk to him for me?"

"It would be inappropriate for me to speak directly to the ambassador."

"You're not allowed to talk to your own boss?"

Velek looked into her ink-dark eyes, sensing he could argue in circles with this woman for days and not get anywhere. Rather than continue to indulge her fantasy of leaving with them he said, "I do not believe your request is reasonable."

Her mouth tightened into a thin line and her eyes rolled upward in thought. "Then I don't think it'll be reasonable to ask me to have your ship ready by tomorrow."

"That is not what we agreed upon."

" _We_ didn't agree upon anything. You made an agreement with Val. He's in the front office if you want to take it up with him but he's pretty drunk. I doubt he'd wake up even if you sewed his ass to the chair and lit him on fire. That's what you get for giving him a cash advance for the work."

With that, she lowered her mask, picked up the welding tool, and went back to work, oblivious to his pleas for speedier service. By the time he left the yard, it was raining again and the sun was beginning to set. It was easy to get lost in the dark of this poorly planned district and when he turned into an alley that he was certain looked familiar, he was struck hard on the back of his head and his world faded to black.

* * *

The last few droplets of water fell from the towel as Mavis twisted the cloth back on itself to wring it out for a third time. Brushing his ridiculous bangs aside, she set the warm cloth on his forehead and took a moment to study the man lying on the flimsy low couch in her shed.

The Vulcan was plain. He was average, unremarkable, and nondescript in every way. No scars, no visible tattoos, no facial hair, not even any moles or pimples or patches of dry skin. She reached for his hand and examined it, scoffing at the neatly trimmed and manicured nails and palms softer than butter. It would be nice to have hands like these, but even with all the money in the universe, Mavis knew her hands would never show this kind of privilege. She liked tinkering too much.

How old was he? He could be anywhere from eighteen to fifty with a perfectly smooth face like his. It was amazing how slowly Vulcans aged, especially when they didn't grow up in Nebor's End.

Suddenly the man moaned and writhed and Mavis instinctively caressed his cheek. He'd been semi-conscious and half-standing when Lahress had brought him into the shop an hour earlier, blood streaming from the back of his head and onto his white undershirt. They used Val's decrepit hovercar to get him back to the shack and onto the broken couch where he now lay.

"I got the hot water from the house you asked for," Lahress said, pushing through the door. "Your dad asked if you could make him some soup."

Mavis rolled her eyes. After years of drinking homebrew solkath, her father's vision was failing and he'd become an insufferable baby over the past few months.

"You boiled it for at least ten minutes?" she asked, studying the cloudy liquid in the bowl.

The Caitian rolled his amber-colored eyes. "Yes."

She gingerly pulled one of the steaming rags from the bowl, wrung it out, and dabbed it onto the cut in his chin.

"Green blood is so weird," Lahress mused.

"As someone who has green blood, I think red blood is gross."

Lahress licked his lips. "You sure you don't want me to see if the doctor will come look at him?"

Mavis gave him a quizzical look. "Unless you want to walk all the way to the west side in this weather at this time of night."

"I meant Dr. Menamin."

"He's still twelve kilometers away and he only lives in Nebor's End because his medical license was revoked on Aldebaran. Besides, I don't have a lot of spare cash to pay him, do you?"

Lahress shrugged. "I didn't want to go get the doctor anyway but I feel bad. I knew he was going to get mugged the minute I saw him. That was a really nice coat and he was by himself. I should have warned him."

Mavis swallowed her own guilt. The exact thought that crossed her mind when this oblivious, princely prat showed up in the salvage yard had been, " _This guy won't make it back to T'Lia's in one piece with nice clothes like that_."

To change the subject she asked, "Any idea who might have done it?"

"Considering where I found him, probably H'larh. Guess we'll find out when we see who turns up wearing tailor-made Vulcan clothing."

"That's why you should stop hanging out with Zleda."

"No way Zleda did this," Lahress hissed, coming to the defense of his Andorian friend.

"I'm not saying _he_ did but he got you smoking krash. How do you think H'larh ended up like he did? He's been smoking the stuff for twenty years and now looks closer to eighty than forty. You want to end up like that?"

He stretched out his claws dismissively. "Anyway, do you need anything else from me? It's prime hunting time and the rain probably stirred the voles out of their burrows."

"Any chance you want to go to T'Lia's and tell his people that he's here so they don't come looking for him and make a bad situation worse?"

He held up his hands in feigned shock. "I did my good deed for the day."

"Oh come on," Mavis groaned. "If you go vole hunting down by Cotter's stream, you're already halfway to T'Lia's place."

"I'll think about it," he sighed as he walked out the door.

Mavis turned back to the man, wondering when she'd developed such a soft spot for naïve idiots like the one lying on her couch. To be fair, she hadn't agreed to help him out of the kindness of her heart—this was definitely going to be a quid pro quo relationship—but as she studied him more carefully, she felt a weird bundle of emotions.

He was so _innocent_. He obviously came from a place where it didn't occur to people to avoid walking down the street at night in nice clothes. He came from a place where strangers weren't seen as easy targets. Mavis wanted to live in a place like that but she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever adapt to a life where she wasn't constantly suspicious of the motives of other people or worried about the threat of theft or random acts of drug-induced violence.

She pulled her good blanket over him, the soft blue one her grandmother gave her right before she died, and pulled the cloth off his forehead. Sleeping on the floor wasn't a welcoming thought, but the couch was the only bed in the shack and she didn't feel like sleeping in the main house with her father. He could make his own damn soup.

She tossed a pillow on the ground and wrapped herself in the itchy, handwoven blanket she threw over her good blanket on cold nights. The cold air drifting through the boards on the floor chilled her to the bone but it wasn't long before she was fast asleep.

It also didn't seem like very long before she was wide awake, startled into consciousness by the Vulcan man's yapping. "Where am I? What is this?"

"You're in my shack," Mavis mumbled.

" _Why_? Where are my clothes?"

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. The dim light outside the single window suggested sunrise was still at least an hour away. "You were mugged last night. Lahress brought you here."

"Who's Lahress? Who are _you_?"

" _Ugh_ ," Mavis grimaced, finally rising to her feet to turn on the lights.

When illumination streaked across the room, he shielded his eyes.

"Remember me?" she asked darkly.

He winced and his hand went up to the back of his head and before he could even ask the question, she said, "Someone conked you in the noggin and took your clothes."

" _What_?"

"Is it really that hard to understand?"

"What's a noggin?"

She didn't mean to laugh, but she did anyway. "Your _head_. Someone hit you in the head, knocked you unconscious, and stripped you down to your underwear. Lahress brought you to me because he thought I would know what to do."

"Who is Lahress?"

"The Caitian boy who helped you find the yard yesterday."

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"You were in and out for most of the night. I'd say it's probably around 0630 hours local time."

"I have to return to the boarding house," he said suddenly. He stood, then realizing he was wearing only an undershirt stained with his own blood and a pair of silky underwear that did more to reveal his genitals than conceal them, he sat back down and covered himself with the blanket.

"You going to walk out in the street like that?" she smirked.

"I have some clothing in my quarters on the ship. Would it be possible for you to retrieve some for me?"

"You would really let me go through your things, knowing the kind of people who live in Nebor's End?"

"Would you steal from me?"

"Maybe. Do you have anything worth stealing?"

He thought to himself for a moment and asked, "Do you know where I might acquire some clothing?"

"I can get you some of my dad's clothes to borrow," she grumbled, stretching her arms over her head. "The key word being _borrow_. He'll be wanting them back."

He blinked. "Thank you for your efforts to shelter and care for me."

"You know, some people would say that you _owe_ me," Mavis mused, tossing him a sardonic look.

His features stiffened. "What form of payment do you suggest?"

"A ride out of town on that fancy shuttle of yours."

"Why can't you take a civilian shuttle?"

"Civilian shuttles don't come here," she explained, trying to keep her voice pleasant. "You're the best chance I have for getting out of Nebor's End without having to wait for the next Federation Famine Relief crew to show up just so I can stow away."

"I really don't see how I can assist you, I-"

"You're a diplomat. Isn't it your job to assist people?"

"You misunderstand," he countered. "I work for a man who works for a diplomat. I hold no real power."

"You could talk to him for me," she insisted. "Or introduce me so I can talk to him. That's all I want."

He seemed to take a moment to think over her request and to sweeten the threat, she asked, "Do you want to walk back to T'Lia's in your underwear?"

His eyes narrowed but the rest of his face remained impassive. "I will speak to Ambassador Sarek on your behalf. I cannot guarantee he will agree."

"But you promise to talk to him?"

"Yes."

" _And_ put in a good word?"

He uttered a small sigh. "Yes."

"Good."

"What is your name?"

"Mavis."

"That is not a Vulcan name."

She shrugged. "My dad owed the last owner of Lucky's bar a huge tab. Her name was Mavis. She agreed to let him keep drinking one night if he named his unborn child after her. Lucky for me, I ended up being a girl. People around here wouldn't be too kind to a boy named Mavis."

"Most people wouldn't admit to such a story."

She shrugged. "It's the truth and I'm not most people. What's your name?"

"Velek."

"That's about the most Vulcan name I've ever heard."

"I _am_ Vulcan."

"Oh, it shows. Believe me, it shows."

"I am honored to meet you, Mavis."

"Back at you, Velek."


	3. The Hole in the Wall

**Stardate 2257.176  
** **Nebor's End, Yakara II**

His head throbbed, his back ached, and his skin itched from the loose clothing hanging over his slender frame. Based on the stiffness of the garments and the fact that he'd already found three tiny mites crawling through them, it appeared Mavis' father wasn't keen on laundry.

He was also barefoot with mud squished between his toes. It seemed prudent to wash his feet prior to entering T'Lia's boarding house, but none of the other patrons appeared to be concerned about tracking filth through the establishment. As Velek limped up the stairs, he drew considerable attention from the people at the bar, mostly in the form of laughter and whistles.

He passed the woman with the purple hair on the landing and she asked if he was sure he didn't want someone to give him some tender, loving care.

"I prefer to be left alone, but thank you for your kindness."

A rich laugh originated from deep within her belly and flowed through her in waves. "Thought you would say something like that. Take care of yourself, Vulcan."

It was odd to be called Vulcan by someone who was also Vulcan, but Velek didn't bother to reflect on it. He needed to report to the ambassador and notify him that he was alive and well—well enough to walk, anyway—and inform him of the progress of the shuttle. And discuss Mavis, _if_ he could work it into the conversation.

He'd spent most of the walk back to the boarding house debating whether it would be better to change clothing before speaking with Ambassador Sarek. Remaining unwashed and in this crusty, flea-ridden ensemble would lend credibility to his account of the previous day's events. Not that Velek was known to be a liar—lying was illogical—but his current state would leave little doubt that his story was completely free of embellishment. On the other hand, because the ambassador had no reason to suppose Velek would lie, perhaps it would be a bit too dramatic to appear before his supervisor's supervisor looking and smelling as he did.

Before he could reach a decision regarding how he wanted to appear before the ambassador, the ambassador stepped out of his room just as Velek turned the corner. Though his outward expression remained neutral, it was evident there was some surprise in the man's eyes.

"It is a relief to see you, Velek."

Velek lifted his hand to offer the ta'al, having to shake his wrist to slide the sleeve over his hand. Mavis' father was quite a bit taller than Velek and he'd been forced to roll the cuffs of the pantlegs and sleeves. "Live long and prosper, ambassador."

"We were concerned when you did not return yesterday evening but I heard from a young Caitian man you had been injured and taken to the home of a local resident."

"That is correct," he began to explain.

"Perhaps you would like to enter my quarters and we can discuss it privately. Unless you prefer to bathe and change clothes first."

"I am willing to do whichever is more convenient for you, ambassador."

Ambassador Sarek glanced down at Velek's filthy feet, prompting Velek to add, "Though perhaps we might both agree it would be inappropriate for me to track mud into your quarters. Would it be good form to ask you to enter mine instead?"

The older man gave a small bow and followed Velek into the dingy room. Much to Velek's relief, it didn't appear that anyone had entered and pilfered his belongings.

"Would you care to sit?" Velek asked, motioning to the only reasonable choice of seating arrangement, which was a wobbly, lumpy chair by the door.

"Are you well, Velek?"

"I have not suffered any permanent damage."

The ambassador raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"I was assaulted and my clothes were stolen. It is logical to conclude the Caitian you spoke with was the one who assisted me."

"There does not appear to be any organized law enforcement agency in this district. I'm not certain you will receive justice for what has been done to you."

"I did not expect any. It would seem the thief had a greater need for my clothes than I did."

"That is likely true," the ambassador agreed.

Velek lifted his hand to absentmindedly rub the knot on the back of his head but stopped. "There is so much poverty in this place. It is- it is-"

"Difficult to comprehend," the ambassador finished. "Especially when you have little experience of the quadrant beyond Vulcan. Perhaps it was unwise of me to dispatch you for this task."

"I would argue this experience has imparted a substantial lesson."

"Explain."

Velek hesitated, suddenly realizing he was on the verge of entering into a casual discussion with a man far superior to him in rank. It was his place to serve tea and track appointments, not opine about poverty and social injustice. He devised the simplest answer he could muster. "It has been a reminder to be grateful for the things I have. And also to be more aware of my surroundings."

"True wisdom is often best gained through experience."

"Yes, ambassador."

"Your young Caitian friend could not give me any indication of when work on the shuttle would be complete. Will the engineers be done today?"

"No," Velek answered, folding his hands in front of him. "According to the engineer working on the project, the salvage yard manager's estimate was incorrect."

"It seemed reasonable," the ambassador countered. "Has this engineer offered any explanation for the delay?"

"She is working alone and calculates it will require six additional days of work," Velek responded, pausing a beat before adding, "Though she has implied she could work more quickly in exchange for a favor."

"The proposed payment was quite generous."

"She's not seeking additional payment; she is asking for passage out of Nebor's End. The salvage yard owner promised her thirty percent of the profit, and she suggests we may retain that amount as payment."

To Velek's surprise, the ambassador took some time to consider what he'd heard. "Where does she wish to go?"

"She did not specify. I believe she would willingly go anywhere we agreed to take her, including Vulcan. She is of Vulcan descent, though she admits she is not a Vulcan citizen and does not appear to be a follower of logic."

"Vulcan society is rarely accepting of members of our own species who reject the teachings of Surak. It is why colonies such as Nebor's End exist."

"I am aware, ambassador." Velek wondered if Mavis would be open to learning about logic but because he did not know, he did not feel comfortable proposing this option.

"Does she anticipate I will honor her request?"

"When I offered to speak to you on her behalf, I made it clear I could not guarantee the answer she hopes for."

Ambassador Sarek tucked his hands behind his back and inched toward the window. More storm clouds were forming. "It is within my power to grant passage to nearly anyone I choose on my assigned diplomatic vessel, but we do not have spare quarters aboard our ship to accommodate a female."

"I am aware, ambassador. I communicated this to her, but I believe she is so desperate to leave the planet she would sleep in the cargo hold if that were the only thing offered to her."

Ambassador Sarek glanced out the window and said, "While I understand with her plight, our present circumstances are such that I cannot in good conscience allow her to accompany us back to Vulcan. In the future you would be wise to avoid entertaining such discussions."

"It was not my intention to speak on your behalf and I apologize if I acted improperly," Velek said, casting his eyes downward. "I only agreed to act as an intermediary because she took me into her home last night when I was incapacitated and was kind to me. This conversation was all she asked for in return."

"Compassion is not illogical: it is understandable you would wish to help her," he said, turning away from the window to face him. "Now that we have observed the state of the colony for ourselves, I intend to make a number of recommendations to the Federation Colonial Relief Agency."

Velek nodded. It was not the answer Mavis wanted, but it was better than nothing. The ambassador did not send him to the salvage yard again, choosing instead to send Toran and the pilot together in the early afternoon after what happened to Velek.

Velek spent the next several days in his room, occasionally glancing out the window to observe the goings on in Nebor's End and frequently meditating over what he witnessed. He thought of Mavis more often than he cared to, wondering what would become of her.

Four days later, Toran and the pilot returned to announce their shuttle would be ready the following day. The next morning, the six Vulcans packed their belongings, paid T'Lia for her hospitality, and walked back to the salvage yard.

Tavek walked far ahead, slowing only when Ambassador Sarek suggested the rest of the group might not be eager to embark on a forced march at this hour of the day. When Velek caught up to his supervisor, he was stunned to see Tavek's skin was flushed green and his eyes were bloodshot. His posture was rigid and his hands were balled into fists. The ambassador mentioned he was unwell and he certainly looked it.

In the event that whatever plagued Tavek was contagious, Velek casually slowed his stride and maneuvered around the back of the group to fall into step next to Sovok, the ambassador's communications director. When they arrived at the yard, Velek was perplexed when the pace of his heart quickened. Stranger still was the feeling of disappointment when the Tellarite owner appeared instead of his young Vulcan employee to complete their transaction.

The others boarded the ship, but Velek paused at the base of the ramp to speak with the Tellarite. "Is Mavis here?"

"She finished her work last night and didn't come in today."

"Will you give her my thanks and return these to her?" he asked, presenting him with the freshly laundered clothes Mavis let him borrow.

"Sure, kid. Travel safe. Live long and proper."

Velek's instinct was to correct him, but instead he nodded, turned on the ramp, and boarded the ship. He spent much of the day in the general-purpose room at the rear of the ship with Sovok. Tavek's ill health left him confined to his quarters so it fell to Velek and Sovok to receive and respond to all communiqués from the past six days. The work kept his mind occupied, for which he was grateful, but when he trudged back to his quarters in the early evening, discontentment quickly crept in. But _why_?

He took his time in the sonic shower, enjoying the feel of the pulses vaporizing the dirt and sweat from his body. As he emerged from the stall to grab a pair of underwear, he discovered they'd slid from the edge of the narrow vanity onto the floor, so he bent down to pick them up. When he did, his ears detected a faint, sneeze-like sound.

Bolting upright, he glanced around. It was illogical, of course. The lavatory was tiny and there was no place for any intruder to hide, but he did stare into the mirror on the opposite wall for longer than necessary, unable to shake the feeling he wasn't alone. When he convinced himself he probably heard Tavek next door, he dressed, returned to his room, and browsed his music collection, eventually settling on a mournful Andorian dirge.

It felt nice to close his eyes and allow his mind to rest as the chords of the Andorian pipes gave way to a resplendent choir. The music was in him now so perhaps it should have been no surprise when he began to sing along. When the song shifted suddenly to a pianissimo bridge, he heard the sneeze again. It could not possibly have originated in Tavek's quarters.

"Computer, end music."

Silence flooded the room and he trained his ears in the direction of the door. A faint squeak allowed him to narrow down the sound to the wall between the door and the lavatory. The press of his hands on the wall revealed it to be a thin steel panel capable of bowing inward with very little pressure.

The panel was fixed in place by a set of grooves on the top and bottom and when he pressed his hands more firmly and pushed up, the panel popped outward, revealing a narrow crawlspace between his quarters and Tavek's. Tucked inside were two small bags, a box with canned food, and a disheveled Vulcan woman.

"Please don't be mad," Mavis breathed, wincing with each word.

Velek didn't respond. Anger was illogical but surprise in this case was inevitable.

"Ok, fine, you can be mad." She wobbled to her feet. "But before you start yelling, I really have to pee."

* * *

**Stardate 2257.176  
** **Nebor's End, Yakara II**

"Do you realize what you've done is a crime?"

"Are you a lawyer?" Mavis asked. She didn't mean to sound so cheeky but he was overreacting.

"I do not need to hold a legal profession to know that stowing away is a violation of Federation law."

"Look, I didn't have a choice."

His eyes widened and his brow raised. It was almost comical to see such open expression on his face and she had to look away to avoid laughing.

"Is this amusing to you?"

She took a deep breath and replied, "No."

"You did have a choice and the choice you've made is likely to get you sentenced to prison."

"I'd rather be in Federation prison than Nebor's End."

Velek took a slow breath. "Flippancy is inappropriate. This is a very grave matter, Mavis."

"Look, I'm _sorry_."

"Do you realize how this will appear?" he asked, turning to glare at her. "I did speak to the ambassador on your behalf and he regretfully refused your request. By stowing away on this vessel in such proximity to my quarters, it would be logical for him to deduce that I may aided you in committing this crime."

Mavis' heart sank. "I- I'm sorry. I never wanted to get you in trouble. I didn't even know these were your quarters."

Something caught his eye and he turned his head. A look of utter astonishment crossed his face. "The mirror is semi-transparent?"

Mavis closed her eyes in horror. "I didn't look, I promise."

Velek stepped forward to examine her handiwork. She'd replaced the original floor-length mirror in the bathroom and installed a two-way mirror on hinges to serve as an impromptu door to give her access to the toilet. She opted for a semi-transparent mirror to be absolutely certain no one was in there whenever she came out of her hidey hole to pee. The walls on this ship were thin, but she hadn't wanted to take any chances.

He exhaled slowly through his nose. "You have betrayed my trust in numerous ways."

It would have been better if he yelled or punched the wall or did anything other than tell her how disappointed he was. "I'm sorry."

"As am I," he replied. "Come with me."

"Where?"

"To see the ambassador."

" _What_? You can't rat me out."

"Concealing a crime is also a crime."

"Velek, _please_."

"It is my duty to report this."

"I took you into my home when you were hurt."

"A deed for which I am immeasurably grateful, but it does not-"

"I'm just asking for this one favor in return," she interrupted. "Please, just let me hide here until we get to wherever you're stopping next, then I'll sneak off the ship and you'll never see me again."

"You have already asked for and received one favor," he reminded her. "I spoke to the ambassador and he refused to grant your request. Furthermore, failing to report you would make me complicit not only in the crime of allowing you to stow away, but also to illegally enter Vulcan."

"So we _are_ going to Vulcan then?"

"First we are going to see the ambassador."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Or else what? You'll drag me down the hall?" She sounded like a bratty little girl, but what was she going to gain by turning herself in?

He gave a small shake of his head and marched toward the door, pausing in the entryway. "You do not need to be present when I speak to Ambassador Sarek. I merely thought you would prefer to explain yourself to him directly rather than trust me to deliver an explanation for why you are aboard this ship."

" _Velek_ ," she hissed as he disappeared into the hallway.

He breezed through the corridor quickly and smoothly, leaving her to give chase and plead with him to go back to his quarters and discuss it in private. It almost wounded her that there was no hesitation when he stopped in front of a door at the rear of the ship and activated the buzzer.

"Is there anything I can do to talk you out of this?" she whispered through gritted teeth.

The door slid open, revealing a man who looked an awful lot like Velek, except maybe a little older, taller, and fairer complexioned.

"Velek, it is quite late-" The man's eyes swooped from Velek to Mavis. His mouth drifted shut and she detected the slightest clenching of his jaw.

"May I ask who you are?"

" _Mavis_ ," she said. Her words were barely audible, so she cleared her throat and repeated, "Mavis."

He gestured to his room. "Perhaps you both should enter so we may speak privately."

Once inside, they were directed to two chairs across from an artfully-shaped desk in the corner of the room. Mavis was intensely curious about the décor but gawking at it would have been rude, especially under the circumstances.

"I am Ambassador Sarek."

"Nice to meet you," she replied instinctively, kicking herself for sounding casual and almost _cheerful_ , like they were buddies sitting down to shots at the bar.

"How did you come to be on this ship, Mavis?"

She snuck a sidelong glance at Velek, folded her hands in her lap, and mumbled, "I stowed away in a compartment between two sleeping quarters."

Sarek's gaze shifted to Velek and before either of them could speak, she interjected, "Velek didn't have anything to do with this. He didn't even know."

"I am relieved to hear that, but it was easy enough to deduce, given he brought you to my quarters late in the evening. It was logical to conclude he came to report you the moment he discovered you, which reflects well upon him. It is also logical to conclude you are the engineer he spoke of."

Mavis chewed the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. So Velek really _had_ talked to this guy for her? She'd had her doubts of course, but now she felt terrible.

He looked back at Velek. "Now that your name has been cleared, I must ask you to wait outside while Mavis and I discuss how best to proceed."

Velek left without even giving Mavis another look, which made Mavis feel exposed and vulnerable. The ambassador waited until the door slid closed to ask, "Do you comprehend the gravity of this situation?"

"I've stowed away on this ship, which I know is a crime."

"And once we reached Vulcan, you would have entered the planet illegally, which is also a crime."

"I know." And she _did_ know, even if her voice was hesitant and shaking. There had always been the chance that she would be caught but she never truly believed it would happen. As it turned out, she didn't even last twelve hours in her hiding space. She wanted to smack herself for not vacuuming it out better or forgetting to bring allergy medication.

"Do you believe I should turn you over to Federation authorities?"

She blinked several times. Was he inviting her to join some kind of mind game? What answer did he want?

"I think you should- you should do what you think is right."

"What do you think is right?"

She sighed and hung her head, resisting the urge to nibble at the flap of skin on the inside of her cheek and make the wound worse.

"I didn't stow away on your ship because I thought it would be funny or because I wanted a free ride or an adventure or anything like that. I just want a better life. There is _nothing_ for me in Nebor's End."

"You have no relations?"

"My mom died when I was eight. She ate the wrong mushrooms. My dad's been drowning himself in alcohol longer than I've been alive. He isn't a bad person, but he isn't a good parent. I mostly raised myself."

"What did you plan to do once you arrived on Vulcan?"

"I- I don't know. I didn't even know we were going to Vulcan. I didn't know anything about any of you. This is probably the dumbest thing I've ever done, not only because I broke the law but also because I don't know if you're the sort of people who would throw me out an airlock for stowing away. I was that desperate that I didn't care."

Her voice began to crack so she slammed her mouth shut and wrung her hands, desperate to keep from crying.

"You really supposed we would eject you from an airlock?"

"No? I don't know? Probably not?"

"Surak teaches us to reject violence and vengeance. There is no logic in killing you for what you've done."

"That- that's good to hear."

"Are you familiar with Surak's teachings?"

"Not really. The V'tosh ka'tur who settled Nebor's End take a pretty dim view of logic. I never met anyone who had a copy of _The Teachings of Surak_."

"I see. What is your citizenship status?"

"I was born in Nebor's End. It's a sanctioned Federation colony so as far as I know, I'm a Federation citizen, right?"

"Yes, but were your parents also born in Nebor's End?"

"My mother was born on Vulcan."

"What was her name?"

"T'Rivka."

"Do you know her familial name?"

She shook her head. "I don't remember much about her. She never talked about Vulcan and my father never talked about her after she died."

"It may be possible for you to seek Vulcan citizenship through your mother, if we can identify who she was and verify you are her daughter. I will look into this for you."

Mavis could hardly believe her ears. "You're offering to help me? Even after I broke the law and violated your trust by sneaking on board?"

"Your actions were misguided but I believe your desperation is genuine."

"Thank you so much! And I'm sorry-"

"I did not say I would not also report you to Federation authorities on Vulcan. I will take some time and consider the best course of action. At a minimum, our pilot will need to amend the passenger manifest to reflect your presence on board."

Mavis gulped and offered a repentant bob of her head. "I understand."

"If I may offer some advice…" the ambassador said.

"Sure."

"If you are successful in petitioning for Vulcan citizenship, Vulcan can be a very… _challenging_ place to live for those who do not follow logic. There are off-worlders residing on Vulcan of course, many of whom do not subscribe to Vulcan philosophy, however…" He made many frequent pauses in his speech, giving her the impression that he was about to seriously insult his own people and was trying his best to soften the blow.

"You're implying that because I actually _am_ Vulcan that no one will accept me unless I hop on the Surak train."

His eyes flickered in a moment of bewilderment. "In a manner of speaking, yes. There is a reason virtually all V'tosh ka'tur sects left Vulcan."

"I'll think about it. Learning about logic, I mean." And she really meant it. Maybe she could convert to whatever weird religion—if it really could be called a religion—these people followed if it meant never going back to Nebor's End. Worst case, she could give it a try and if it didn't work out, she could move somewhere else. Surely transportation in and out of Vulcan wasn't as spotty as it was in Nebor's End.

He turned in his chair, extracted a book from the shelf behind him, and slid a worn copy of a book lettered with loopy Vuhlkansu script across the desk. Rather than admit to him she couldn't even read her own people's language, she graciously accepted his offering and replied, "Thanks for letting me borrow this. I'll take good care of it."

"You may keep it. I have many copies."

"You're _giving_ this to me?"

"That is what is implied by the expression, 'you may keep it.'"

Mavis swallowed hard. Ten minutes ago she had been considering the remote possibility these people would shove her out an airlock and now this stranger was giving her a book without asking for anything in return.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He rose to his feet. "I regret we do not have any vacant accommodations for you."

"I can stay wherever," she immediately replied. "I was willing to hide out in a sixty-centimeter wide compartment for however long it took to get where we were going."

"I am confident we can arrange something slightly more comfortable."

"How much longer until we get to Vulcan? I only ask because I have enough food for four days and-"

"You are welcome to use the ship's replicators for meals."

Mavis glanced at the book in her hand and made a face. "What's the catch?"

"Clarify."

"No one gives away food for free. Nothing is _free_."

"You are getting passage to Vulcan free of charge," he countered.

Her face burned.

"As you will discover, Vulcan does not use a system of currency as you did on Nebor's End," he continued. "There is more than sufficient energy to provide you with basic nutrition for the next six days."

He headed toward the door and she followed like a brand-new puppy, unsure of this strange man but even more unsure of being left alone. They found Velek waiting in the corridor.

"There are only two cabins aboard this ship equipped with double bunks," Ambassador Sarek announced.

"You imply that I should yield my quarters to her and share a room with Tavek?"

"That will not be possible," the ambassador replied. "Tavek is quite indisposed. I am aware it is highly unorthodox, but I believe the best solution is for her to share your quarters with you."

This suggestion clearly dumbfounded Velek but he did a royal job of hiding it. Her eyes would have bugged out of her head if the roles were reversed and she suddenly felt bad for encroaching on his privacy.

"I don't want to put anyone out," she said. "Surely there has to be a storage locker or a cargo bay or-"

"None that can be adequately secured," the ambassador replied, stepping off to lead them back to Velek's room.

Mavis was about to ask if there were a lot of thieves or peeping toms on this ship. These kind of Vulcans didn't seem like the type, but what he said next confused her even more. The ambassador turned to Velek and said, "I am relieving you of your duties for the duration of our journey. Your primary focus will be to supervise Mavis. Excepting meal times, she will remain confined to your quarters until we return to Vulcan."

Velek arched an eyebrow and Mavis wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He was being assigned to _babysit_ her? Worse than that, when he said there was no room he could "adequately secure," he hadn't been talking about protecting Mavis and her belongings from other people, he'd been talking about protecting other people and their belongings from _her_. She really shouldn't have been surprised—she was a stowaway, why not also a thief or a saboteur?

"I understand, ambassador," Velek replied.

"I will also instruct you to leave the door locked at all times," the ambassador said. "I am aware this situation is an inconvenience to you both, but our journey will be relatively short. Perhaps you can learn from one another during this sequestration."

Velek gave a tiny nod. "Yes, ambassador."

The ambassador departed, leaving them both standing in the hall and staring at the floor. Velek sighed and placed his hand on the keypad to unlock it, revealing the pristine room, minus one of the wall panels resting on the floor. When the door closed behind them, they stood quiet and still for nearly a minute until Mavis worked up the courage to say, "So… roomie…"

"You may have the top bunk," Velek said, his voice curt.

"I'm a very still sleeper. You won't even know I'm here. I'll just curl up-"

"Do that." He moved to the wall to reinstall the missing panel.

"Velek?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

His body stiffened. "It is late; we should sleep."

She tapped the book the ambassador had given her on her palm and looked around. As awkward as this was going to be, it was still better than spending the next week hiding in the wall.


	4. First Contact, First Blood

**Stardate 2257.177  
** **Regulan Sector**

Before Velek even opened his eyes, his ears were bombarded with a symphony of nasally snuffling and snoring. He took several slow breaths and rolled out of bed, ducking under Mavis' limp arm hanging down from the bunk above.

She was flat on her back, mouth wide open, fast asleep. Her claims of being a still sleeper were true, but a quiet sleeper she most certainly was not. He rushed through his morning hygiene routine and dressed quickly, a task which was difficult in the narrow latrine. When he reemerged in his quarters, Mavis was exactly as he'd left her.

Why had the ambassador decided on this arrangement? It was _extremely_ improper for an unbonded male to cohabitate with an unbonded female. He wasn't entirely certain of the marital status of the other males on board, nor was he certain it would have been better for Mavis to stay with one of them, but there were literally _hundreds_ of ways the accommodations could have been reconfigured to give Mavis a private space.

The most reasonable option, considering rank and position and Tavek's illness, would have been to move Tavek out of his quarters into Sovok's room and move Velek and Sovok into Tavek's double bunk while Mavis occupied Velek's former room. Or Velek could have slept on the floor in Sovok's room. Or in the cargo bay. Mavis uttered a loud grunt and pulled the arm dangling off the bed up to her stomach to scratch it. Seeing this, Velek decided he would rather sleep in the cargo bay.

The ambassador was a logical man, and it was logical to assume the ambassador had realized this. A human _toddler_ could have realized this. Therefore, it was logical to conclude the ambassador had another motive for assigning them to share these quarters. It was obvious the ambassador didn't trust Mavis, nor should he, and the most logical explanation was he expected Velek to watch her. Velek supposed of all the individuals on board, he was a poor choice of jailer but the only logical choice, considering he was most familiar with her.

Since she was sound asleep and he was quite hungry, he reasoned it would be safe to leave her for a short time while he went to procure first meal. Perhaps he could even obtain food for her and bring it back to the room and avoid having to escort her around the ship. He quickly exited his quarters and engaged the button to lock the door behind him.

In the multi-purpose room in the back of the ship where they took their meals, he found Sovok sitting alone at one end of a long, narrow table with four stools tucked on each side. He was reading a PADD and didn't look up to acknowledge Velek, so he stopped by the replicator to acquire a bowl of the traditional Vulcan breakfast for himself and took a seat at the opposite end of the table. A few moments later, Toran and Ambassador Sarek arrived and ventured toward the replicator.

Toran and the ambassador opted to sit diagonally across from each other, each of them leaving a single seat between themselves and Velek and Sovok. It was fascinating how Vulcans always sought to achieve the maximum possible distance away from any other intelligent being.

"Live long and prosper Sovok, Velek," the ambassador said.

He and Sovok looked up from their bowls of soup and replied in unison, "Live long and prosper, ambassador."

"Where is our guest this morning?" the ambassador asked, turning to look at Velek.

"She was asleep when I left my quarters," he explained. "I locked the door behind her, as you-"

"Good morning!" a perky voice interrupted.

Everyone at the table turned to see Mavis standing in the doorway, except for Ambassador Sarek, whose eyes remained locked on Velek. "You were saying?"

"I was sure I had secured it," Velek replied without a shred of confidence in his voice.

Mavis' face was turning vivid green. She looked at the ambassador and said, "I know you said I should stay in the room, but you said it was ok to come out at meal times and it _is_ time for breakfast and I heard your voices at the end of the hall and I just thought…"

"Welcome, Mavis," Amabassador Sarek said. "Please, join us."

She shuffled toward the table. Velek's mind darted back to the keypad by his door and he realized in his haste to leave the room, he _had_ locked it, but only from the outside. There was a separate button to secure the door from the inside but he'd never used it. He so rarely locked the door at all. Prior to Mavis' arrival, he never supposed anyone aboard would enter his room without permission. Also prior to Mavis' arrival, he'd never been asked to keep someone confined to his quarters.

As she approached, it became obvious there was no ideal place for her to sit. She could sit across from Velek and next to Toran, or across from Toran and between Sarek and Velek.

"Sovok, Toran, this is Mavis," the ambassador continued. "She will be traveling with us to Vulcan.

Because Vulcan custom dictated that it was proper to stand when being introduced to someone, Sovok and Toran rose to their feet, which clearly made Mavis uneasy. She gave a little wave of her hand and said, "Hi."

"Mavis, this is Sovok, my communications direction, and Toran, the ship's navigator."

Velek peeked at Sovok and Toran, curious how they were internally resolving this unexpected development. He examined the sparse facts from their point of view. Mavis' long hair and casual manner indicated she was not a follower of Surak. Given they'd just come from Nebor's End, it was reasonable to conclude she was a resident of that colony, and given no announcement had been made that they were taking on a passenger, the only logical explanation for her presence was that she'd stowed away. The spark of recognition occurred in each of their eyes at almost precisely the same moment and now everyone in the room was on the same page in a matter of seconds without having ever uttered a word about it.

"It is an honor to meet you," said Sovok and Toran.

"Perhaps you would like to select a meal and be seated." The ambassador gestured toward the replicator on the wall.

Mavis gave a small smile and drifted toward the replicator. She raised a hand and touched a button but nothing happened. She tried several more buttons with no success. Sensing her growing distress, Velek joined her and whispered, "Are you familiar with the operation of a replicator?"

"No," she admitted without looking at him.

"I can assist you."

Relief and gratitude formed in her eyes. He pulled up the main page of food items. "You can search among first meal, mid meal, or end meal items, in addition to supplemental foods and drinks."

She stared blankly at the loopy Vuhlkansu script, raised a finger, then put it down again. Perhaps the selection was overwhelming her.

"What would you like?"

"Uh, I- _food_?"

"Perhaps you wish to browse the section for first meals, or search for a specific food alphabetically."

Her eyes darted between the screen and the floor several times. Every time her eyes returned to the flowing vertical text, there was no shred of recognition or comprehension. Her eyes began to glisten and Velek's confusion at her indecision flipped to pity.

"Do you speak Vuhlkansu?" he whispered.

She gave the tiniest shake of her head and mumbled, "No."

Without saying a word, he pressed the button to change the Vuhlkansu text into the horizontal Standard print. She squinted at the directory and selected an item halfway down the screen. A large plate of pasta with cream sauce appeared below. Velek raised an eyebrow but decided he was being illogical—perhaps it was customary to eat a hearty first meal in Nebor's End.

As they returned to the table, Velek elected to take the seat next to Toran so Mavis could sit across from him and not be forced to sit next to a stranger. He slid his bowl of plomeek soup across the table and motioned for her to sit.

She lifted one of the long, wide noodles with one of the outermost tines of her fork, raised it up in the air, and nibbled on the end. Her peculiar feeding habits drew the attention of everyone at the table.

"This is _delicious_ ," she proclaimed, grinning broadly. She picked up another noodle and slurped it down with audible gusto.

"The flavor is, _wow_. I love everything about it—the texture, the taste. Do you eat meals like this all the time?"

Velek stared at the plain pasta dish on the plate, thinking it actually looked rather uninspired. He could sense Sovok and Toran staring at her in his periphery and wishing to defuse their growing bafflement, he replied, "First meals on Vulcan are often small and light. Nutrient-dense dishes such as the one you have selected are typically eaten for midday meals."

"Oh," she said, blushing. "I didn't know."

"You have committed no offense," Ambassador Sarek responded, glancing at Toran who was still watching Mavis. "What do you typically consume for first meal in Nebor's End?"

"Oh, you know," she mumbled, looking down at her fork. "Potato soup, potato flatcakes, rice pudding, pallas roots. In the summer, maybe some fresh starberries if you can get up early and get them before the birds. Just depends on what's available."

Sovok stood and gave a small bow to the others at the table, placed his bowl in the reclaimator, then left. Mavis shoveled food into her mouth, gnawing on it so vigorously he could see and hear much of the chewing process. Despite devouring her food like a ravenous predator, he and the others were finished with their meals well before her, thanks only to much smaller portion sizes.

After the ambassador and Toran departed, Mavis set her fork down and gave him a concerned look.

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"What gives you the impression you did?"

"Everyone was staring at me. It was so _awkward_."

"Meals aboard the ship are usually subdued affairs and you are… quite animated."

"I didn't mean to offend anyone."

"I am certain you have caused no offense. It is merely that you are quite different than the Vulcan females we are accustomed to."

"I don't- it's only that- all Vulcans are like this?"

"Explain."

"So quiet and serious all the time?"

"Aside from the various V'tosh ka'tur sects, yes. The majority of Vulcans follow logic. Logic is rarely vivacious."

"Do you like being logical?"

He thought to himself for a moment. There were many times he wished he could allow himself to experience the joy of music and theater without a subsequent cycle of guilt and shame, and then more shame for feeling guilt and shame. "I have never known a life outside of logic."

"I've never known a life with it," she muttered, using her fork like a shovel to capture another glob of noodles.

"Do you wish to learn more about it?"

"I don't know. I don't think I could give up smiling. I don't think I could give up feeling feelings."

"It is a common misperception that Vulcans do not have emotions. We simply seek to master them through the exercise of logic. It is a profound distinction."

"The ambassador gave me a copy of _The Teachings of Surak_."

"That was generous of him. Have you begun to read it?"

"It's just- I- it's- it's not-"

Velek suddenly understood. "I have a copy in Standard, if you wish to borrow it. The essential word in the sentence is borrow. I will want it back."

Mavis gave him a strange look. "I know what borrowing means."

"You said a similar thing to me about your father's clothing," he explained, adding, "Which I returned to your employer, in case you wondered."

A vibrant laugh escaped her lips. "Did you just tell a joke?"

"No," he replied in earnest. "There is no logic in inducing amusement, therefore, I do not tell jokes."

"Maybe not on purpose."

"Not ever."

She plucked the last two noodles from her plate with her fingers, threw her head back, and dropped them down her throat. He almost considered saying something about her abhorrent table manners but decided it may not be his place to correct her. But if not him, then who?

He briefly imagined her impending arrival on Vulcan and felt a twinge of… _something_. He closed his eyes and repressed whatever the nameless emotion was. If the morning meal was any indication, Mavis would not be well-received and it disturbed him that she would be excluded.

He watched as she got up, took her plate to the reclaimator, then stared at the device, utterly clueless about how to proceed. There was no logic in feeling protective of a woman he barely knew, just as there was no logic in feeling disappointed in a society he knew all too well. Still, he felt both things.

* * *

Mavis rolled onto the top bunk and cracked the cover of Velek's copy of the Standard edition of _The Teachings of Surak_. Dread poured through her as the characters quickly became a jumble of nonsense. Her eyes drifted closed and she flipped to a random page and tried to read.

The letter L followed by the letter O. _Loo_? _Loh_?

Next was the letter G, followed by an I and a C. _Loh-gis_? Mavis gritted her teeth and shook her head. _Loh-gis_ wasn't a word. The word was obviously _logic_. Who designed the letter C, a character that could sound like a K or an S? Why not just use the letter K if a K sound was required? _Logik_? Or better yet, _lah-gik_ , because that was what the word sounded like.

She took a deep breath and continued. The next word was easy enough, I and S, is. _Logic is_. Her progress was halted at the phonetic maze that was the very next word. She said each letter aloud, beginning with "E" and ending with "L." Then she made each sound she imagined each letter should make. " _Eh-teer-nahl_." _Eternal_?

"Logic is eternal?" she muttered. She sighed and closed the book. "Congratulations Mavis, you just finished a sentence."

The same sense of shame she felt earlier in the dining room resurfaced, threatening to manifest itself in tears. Her district in Nebor's End never had very good teachers, but that never bothered Mavis much because she never was a very good student. She could do her numbers well enough—an acute understanding of money was critical to survival in her colony and useful in her job as a mechanic—but words always proved an impossible thing to master. At least Velek wasn't here to see her struggles and tell her she was dumb.

After breakfast, they'd returned to the room, he gave her Surak's book in Standard, and she flopped down on the top bunk and pretended to read it for a few minutes. Then he'd received a message from Sovok summoning him to resolve some kind of diplomacy-related emergency and promised to be right back. He also informed her not to go anywhere, as if she didn't know.

But that was thirtyish minutes ago. Her eyes drifted closed and she started to doze but a low moan caught her attention. It took a few seconds to decide it was a person making the noise, not some faulty duct or other piece of machinery. Just as she threw her legs over the bed to jump down and investigate, it stopped. Had it been coming from the person in the room next door?

She paced along the wall, half-tempted to extract the panel and reveal her former hiding place, if only just to press her ear that much closer to the room next door. During her deliberations, she noticed the PADD on Velek's desk was slightly askew. A flashing blue power button in the corner stirred a childlike impulse to press it and the moment she did, a burst of lyrics spewed into the silence.

" _Because our love fits like a glove and I just can't get enough of it_!" sang a woman.

" _This thing we have just drives me mad, honey please give me some more of it_!" a man crooned in reply.

Mavis' eyeballs threatened to bulge out of her head. What the hell was this? It was so _loud_. She needed to make it stop before—

"What are you doing?" Velek growled.

Too late. Mavis picked up the PADD and frantically plucked at the only two visible buttons, but that just made the music louder. He snatched it from her grip and instantly the booming music evaporated.

"What gave you cause to think you could touch my belongings?" His voice was harsh and flat.

"It was an accident," she lied. Or maybe it wasn't a _complete_ lie—she _had_ meant to press the button, but she never intended to cause a scene.

"Do you enjoy violating my privacy at every turn or is it just a happy coincidence that you do?"

"I- I'm _sorry_."

"Do not touch my things."

"I said I'm sorry."

"And yet you have not verbally agreed to leave my personal effects alone."

Mavis' face was growing quite hot now. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were becoming emotional."

"And if I didn't know better, I would say you were rude and entitled."

A slurry of swear words crept toward the tip of her tongue, but he turned on his heel and was out the door before she could fling them at him. She wanted to tear after him and let him know _exactly_ what was on her mind, but she stopped at the door, halted by the invisible line the ambassador had instructed her not to cross.

She clenched her back molars so hard she was sure they would shatter. She yelled, "Joke's on you! There's plenty more of your stuff in here for me to touch!"

The moment she said it, she smacked herself in the forehead. She was acting like a five-year-old and maybe he had a point: maybe she shouldn't have messed with his things.

The press of the cool metal door against her forehead brought a little more clarity but only made her want to cringe more. Dwelling on her many shortcomings was an easy pastime and it wasn't like there was much else to do in this tiny room.

" _Errrrrrrrrrrraaaaaagh_!"

Mavis leapt back, staring at the door in wild terror. The scream had definitely come from next door. Despite the deafening thunder of the blood rushing through her ears, she could hear someone nervously panting and crying. Whoever he was, he certainly sounded like he was in pain.

" _Sanu_ ," cried the masculine voice. " _Sanuuuuuuu_!"

Mavis knew so little of the language of her ancestors, but _sanu_ was a common word uttered in Nebor's End. It was the Vulcan term for "please" and had mixed into the local language with Federation Standard, along with dozens of other words and phrases.

He began muttering long strings of unintelligible Vuhlkansu. Everything inside Mavis pleaded with her to help him, yet Ambassador Sarek had instructed her to remain in the room. Surely helping someone or seeking help for them counted as an exigent circumstance. And surely a logical species would agree that some scenarios existed that would make rule-breaking reasonable. Or maybe someone else would hear him screaming and investigate.

Seconds ticked by and the man continued to wail. She took a deep breath and made a decision. She would step into the hallway, knock on his door, and ask if he was ok. She wasn't going to run off or steal—not that she would have anyway—and if the ambassador asked her about it, she would just lay out the facts and stand by her conscience.

She opened the door and ventured into the corridor at the same time as her neighbor and found herself face-to-face with a tall Vulcan man she'd never seen before. His eyes were curiously both unfocused and wildly glowing and the moment they fell on her, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. He looked like he'd taken some seriously bad drugs. The man clearly was very sick, but not with any sickness Mavis was capable of dealing with.

She held up her hands defensively and slowly started to walk back into her room, but he flew at her with lightning speed, clamping the lower part of her face firmly between his palms.

"What the hell?" she shrieked. " _Stop_!"

" _Sanu_ ," he whimpered, squeezing her jaw so tightly she wondered if he was trying to break it.

He yelped other words she didn't understand and almost instantly had her back pinned against the wall, pressing his body into hers. Whoever he was, he was _strong_. His hot breath poured over her face and his fingers dug into the flesh of her jaw and neck, wriggling around like they were trying to find just the right spot.

"Get off of me," she begged. A warm feeling started to flow down her face, almost as if it were coming from him. She struggled harder. " _Please_. You're hurting-"

Something slammed into him from the left, throwing him off balance and sending him flopping onto the floor. The man was back on his feet so fast that Mavis barely had time to register that it was Velek who'd stopped the unwanted assault. The two men became an instant tangle of swinging arms and legs and Mavis watched in stunned horror as the much broader, taller, and angrier stranger pinned Velek to the floor and began beating him mercilessly.

" _Velek! No! Stop! Please! Don't!_ "

There was so much blood and screaming and chaos. Mavis grabbed the man by his hair and tried to pry him away, but he was a solid mass of dedicated rage. She scratched, pulled, and pummeled with all of her strength, but he barely registered her blows as he began strangling Velek. The whole mess ended just as abruptly as it began when someone shoved her to the side and plunged their fingertips into the crook of the stranger's neck, incapacitating him immediately.

"Velek!" she howled, crawling forward on her hands and knees toward his limp body. " _Velek_!"

People were moving around in her periphery but all she could see was the broken and bloody form of her dead friend. She began to mumble, "He killed him. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead."

A pair of hands reached for Velek's neck and she slapped them away rabidly, instinctively assuming the stranger was coming back to finish the job. "Leave him alone!"

A swell of intense pressure in her right shoulder faded into dizziness and that was the last thing she remembered. When she woke up, her head was splitting in half and her hands were throbbing. She held them up, wincing at the bright light overhead, and was stunned to find blood caked on her knuckles and embedded under her nails. Then she remembered… _Velek_.

She pulled herself into a sitting position. She was in the corner of Velek's quarters. Toran was seated in a chair beside Velek's bunk and holding a tricorder, Velek was lying in the bunk with a face so swollen it was barely recognizable. She gently massaged her forehead and tried to make sense of her surroundings.

"You will likely have a headache for the next several hours," Toran announced. "It is among the most commonly reported side effects of a nerve pinch."

"A what?" she muttered. "Velek, is he-"

"He will live," Toran said. "I have treated his broken bones and torn ligaments and administered anti-inflammatory medications to help with the swelling in his face and hands."

"You're a doctor?"

"No, merely a graduate of the Starfleet Academy paramedic course. The inflammation will subside within the next two to four hours and when it does, I can begin treating his facial lacerations."

"You're sure he'll be ok?"

"Yes."

"And me? What happened to me?"

"Ambassador Sarek subdued you with a nerve pinch."

"Yeah, you said that. What does that even mean, a nerve pinch?"

"It is the preferred, non-violent means of pacifying individuals. You were becoming quite hysterical in your belief that Velek was dead and were not permitting me to assess his injuries."

Mavis stood on two shaking legs and lurched forward. "What the hell was wrong with that guy? Why would anyone do this?"

Toran swallowed and turned his gaze back to Velek. "The man who assaulted you and Velek is not well."

" _Obviously_ ," she spat. "Is it drugs? Mental illness?"

He stole a small glance in her direction, a mild expression of confusion spreading across his face. "You have not deduced- you truly do not know?"

"Deduced _what_? What are you talking about?"

He began packing the tricorder back into the bag at his feet. "I must return to my duties. I ask that you notify me if any change in his condition occurs. There is a switch by the door for you to communicate with the bridge."

Mavis crossed her arms. "What, so that's it? The guy next door nearly beats Velek to death and all you can say is he's 'not well?' Is he still next door or is he locked up? If he's sick, is he getting help?"

"The entry to your room will remain locked at all times from the exterior," Toran continued, rising from the chair. "The door codes have been changed. I have access to these quarters and will bring you meals and regularly monitor Velek's recovery."

"Wait, we get attacked and _we're_ the ones being jailed?"

"It is for your own protection," Toran explained, pausing before adding, "And potentially to protect you from yourself."

"You're not making any sense!" she groaned, rubbing her temples.

"I will return in two hours."

"What is _wrong_ with you people?" she yelled as the door closed behind him.

She sunk into the empty chair beside Velek's bed and hung her head in her hands. She wanted to cry. None of this made any sense. Vulcans were supposed to be logical, uptight bores.

She peeked at the plain, skinny, fastidious creature sprawled unconscious on the bunk, fighting back incredible guilt. She hadn't been the one throwing the punches, but she had a sinking feeling none of this would have happened if she'd just stayed in Nebor's End. Who could have imagined homesickness for a swampy cesspool of poverty would be a side effect of a vicious attack?

She slid out of the chair and onto the floor, adopting a kneeling position and reaching her hand over the mattress to rest it atop Velek's lifeless forearm. His hand was bruised and smeared with dried blood just like hers, but it was warm. The unexpected connection that resulted from this random act of tenderness was the catalyst for the tears that would start sliding down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, very gently squeezing his wrist. "I'm so sorry this happened to you."

She cried, petted his arm, and rambled apologies and explanations until she began to drift into a light sleep, which lasted until a loud _thud_ rippled through the room.

"She is my mate!" screamed a man. "She is _mine_!"

There was a loud scuffle, then silence.


	5. Phaser Hospitality

**Stardate 2257.177  
** **Regulan Sector**

Never in his life had he experienced such pain. His face seemed to be the wrong size for his skull and he was having trouble drawing air in through his nostrils. He tried to sit himself up but quickly smacked his head on the bunk above and screeched in agony.

"Velek?" called a female voice. Someone clutched his elbow. "Lay down. Toran will be back soon."

He opened his eyes as far as he could through swollen eyelids and saw Mavis leaning over him. When he spoke, his tongue artlessly slapped the words from his mouth. "What happened?"

"You got in a fight with this huge Vulcan guy. He almost killed you."

"That cannot be correct," he slurred. "Vulcans are non-violent."

"This one was plenty violent, trust me."

He tried to sit up again, this time conscious of the low bunk overhead. Mavis swore at him and told him he should really stay down, but he was thirsty and needed to urinate. His head was spinning and he felt slightly nauseated, but the thought of vomiting through such a battered face was highly unappealing.

"Are you ok?"

He turned to look at Mavis, annoyed by how much it hurt his neck to move and in too much pain to try and repress his annoyance. "Do I appear to be?"

"No," she admitted. "It was a dumb question."

"I have been beaten unconscious exactly twice in my life," he mumbled through his split lips. "Both times have occurred in the past week and both times I have woken up to you standing over me."

She offered a faint, sheepish smile. "Lucky you?"

"I would argue that your presence in my life has portended general misfortune, if it were logical to believe in such things."

"I didn't make you tackle that guy." Her voice was soft and somber. "I'm grateful you did, but it was your choice."

An image appeared in the deep recesses of Velek's mind, of Tavek pinning Mavis against a wall and Mavis pleading with him to let her go. He blinked several times, oddly indifferent to this stunning realization. Tavek wasn't sick, at least not in any traditional sense of the word. He was experiencing pon farr, and desperation must have driven him to attempt to forcibly bond with the first female he encountered.

How had he not recognized the symptoms? Perhaps because he had never experienced the distasteful ordeal for himself. Or perhaps because Tavek had done an outstanding job of sequestering himself away from everyone. The others _must_ have known, but the other males aboard the ship were also quite a bit older than Velek and had all certainly endured pon farr several times by now.

The ambassador's decisions now made perfect logical sense. He had wanted Mavis locked away for her protection from Tavek, not the ship's protection from her possible criminal proclivities. He had allowed Mavis to leave the room for meals only when chaperoned by Velek, though that was obviously an error on Ambassador Sarek's part—clearly Velek wasn't an ideal candidate to defend her from unwanted suitors.

He exhaled a low breath. Tavek had a mate and two daughters on Vulcan. The scandal of forcing himself on a V'tosh ka'tur woman would have ruined him for the rest of his life and severely tarnished the reputation of Ambassador Sarek's office. And those facts paled in comparison to the effect such an action would have on Mavis. Despite her crude exterior, she was peculiarly innocent in many respects. Even if she were _not_ innocent, even if she were an unrepentant, violent mass murderer, she did not deserve to be violated.

As the full weight of what had occurred began to sink in, his nausea grew worse. Velek never could have imagined assaulting his supervisor, but he also never could have imagined his supervisor trying to forge a telepathic connection with a female stranger against her will. What would _he_ have done in Tavek's situation? Could Tavek be forgiven for his actions based on the extraordinary circumstances? The man was facing death: what could be more extreme than that?

Yet Tavek must have known this, so why had he agreed to travel so far from his mate if he knew his time was approaching? Could pon farr really drive someone to that kind of madness, or was Tavek always capable of such barbarism and pon farr was merely a convenient excuse to act upon it? His queasiness bubbled in the back of his throat.

What if he was due to find out how he would behave in the near future? He was approaching the average age for typical onset of initial pon farr. As the only child of staunch traditionalists, he'd had a mate selected for him as a child, a girl named T'Vika whom he had not seen since the age of seven. He supposed she wasn't much of a girl anymore.

Saliva pooled in his mouth and just moments later, he was releasing the contents of his stomach onto his bedspread. His eyes throbbed with every heave and he had the distinct impression his face was splitting open. A hand slid across his shoulder, behind his neck, and came to rest on the opposite shoulder while a wet cloth dabbed at his face. He pulled away from the comforting touch, fighting dizziness, dismay, and more emotions than he knew how to cope with.

"Stop moving," Mavis tutted. "That cut above your eye is bleeding again."

He glared at her and stretched out his hand, swallowing hard to get the taste of stomach acid out of his throat. "I can tend to this myself."

"I was trying to be nice."

"Outside of the professional medical establishment, it is inappropriate for a female to nurse a male who is not her mate."

Mavis stood and crossed her arms. "We're stuck in here together. It feels wrong to just hop up on the top bunk and leave you down here to suffer, especially when you got hurt trying to help me. Thanks for that, by the way."

He gazed at the washcloth in his hand with the dilute green bloodstain and stood on shaking legs. "You are welcome."

"Do you know who that guy was?"

Velek began collecting his bedspread, folding it in such a way to keep the vomit contained. "He is my supervisor."

"Your boss?" Mavis asked, grabbing the opposite end of the blanket to help him.

"That is a synonym for supervisor, I believe." He was about to tell her he did not require her assistance in cleaning up after him, but her rapid fire questions knew no bounds.

"Do you know why he did this?"

His eyes narrowed. Wasn't it _obvious_? Mavis' curious expression suggested she genuinely didn't know what Tavek had been trying to do. Did the V'tosh ka'tur not suffer from pon farr? The only Vulcans he knew who did not were those who successfully shed all emotion through the kolinahr. Since pon farr was the inevitable result of continually repressing emotions, it seemed logical that a sect of Vulcans who didn't bother subduing their feelings wouldn't be afflicted with it. _Fascinating_.

"Are you ok?" she sighed. "You keep staring off into space."

"I was thinking."

"Yeah, I figured as much. What about?"

"Must you always be so inquisitive?"

The sound of the door opening interrupted any reply she might have devised. Toran appeared with a medical kit in his hands and his eyes darted to the sick covering Velek's bedspread.

"I was feeling nauseated." He inwardly cringed at his very evident statement, but his mind was too active to bother with repressing every tiny emotion at that moment.

"Are you experiencing any dizziness, confusion, or memory loss?" Toran asked.

"Only briefly after I regained consciousness. Aside from the injuries to my face and hands, I am quite improved."

"The swelling has subsided considerably," Toran nodded, opening the medical kit. "I can now treat the lacerations with the dermal regenerator, if you will permit me."

Velek nodded and took a seat on the bare mattress while Toran eased himself into the chair by his bedside. Mavis finished collecting the soiled bedding and piled it in the corner.

"How is Tavek?" he murmured, wincing as Toran gently pinched the broken skin above his brow and began tracing the dermal regenerator over the injury.

"I have sedated him and moved him into my quarters at the other end of the ship. I now occupy his room."

"Tavek, will he-" Velek hesitated and studied the tops of his shoes. Pon farr was among the last things he wished to discuss with anyone, especially with a female in the room. "Is it possible that the assault- I know that ritual combat-"

"The thought occurred to me as well," Toran said, pausing his work with the dermal regenerator and also casting his eyes down when he spoke. "It is possible the physical altercation between the two of you may have improved his ailment, though it is too early to tell and I cannot perform a more thorough examination with the limited medical equipment aboard."

"Wait, are you saying this guy is sick but beating up Velek made him better?" Mavis interrupted.

They both turned their heads in her direction but did not look at her. Velek's eyes crept back to Toran's feet and he said, "I do not believe she understands what has transpired or why."

"What don't I understand?"

"It is possible the confrontation between Tavek and Velek could have improved Tavek's condition," Toran said slowly. "If not, perhaps the incident will buy him sufficient time to allow us to return to Vulcan."

Mavis' face scrunched. "You aren't making any sense."

Toran turned to Mavis, resting his eyes on her knees. "You truly do not understand?"

"You asked me that earlier!" she snapped. She bit down on her lower lip, took a deep breath, and replied through gritted teeth. " _No_ , I don't understand. What made this Tavek guy sick? Is it contagious?"

Both Toran and Velek found neutral points in the room to stare at for an extended period of time before Velek finally said, "There is a condition that occurs among Vulcans which is believed to be the result of an excess of logic. Given that you do not seem to understand what we are discussing, it seems likely the V'tosh ka'tur are not afflicted by it."

"So if I'm not logical, I won't get sick?"

"Under typical conditions, it does not affect females at all, regardless of whether or not they subscribe to Surak's teachings," Toran explained, the tips of his ears flushing green.

"Why do you both look so embarrassed?"

"There is no embarrassment," Toran said, sitting up a little straighter. "It is merely that such things are never discussed openly in our culture."

"So, men in your culture get sick because of logic, beating other people half to death makes them better, and no one ever talks about it. Is that it in a nutshell? Because that sounds like the craziest, _least_ logical thing I've ever heard."

"There is no logic in examining our culture through the lens of your own," Toran said as he began tracing the dermal regenerator over the wounds in Velek's face. "And physical violence is not the most common method of resolution. Nor is it always effective. Tavek might still die."

" _Die_?"

"There is a surer means of curing Tavek's affliction," Toran continued, turning off the dermal regenerator.

"Then why isn't anyone doing that? What does he need? Medicine? Surgery? If you aren't able to treat him on this ship, surely there has to be some planet or starbase nearby that could."

Velek wanted nothing more than to flee the room and never think of this conversation again and judging by the strange expression on Toran's face, the ship's navigator felt much the same way. A peculiar silence fell over the room and eventually Mavis threw her hands in the air and cried, "I thought people dying of complex medical problems because no one's around to give them the right treatment was something that only happened in places like Nebor's End. We're on a ship traveling at warp! You're telling me that there's nowhere between here and Vulcan that could-"

"There is a person aboard this ship capable of resolving Tavek's condition," Toran interrupted, his voice quiet and stern. He turned to look at Mavis.

" _No_ ," Velek retorted.

Velek finally raised his head to look Toran in the eye while Mavis' eyes flicked back and forth between the two men.

"There is no logic in perpetuating her ignorance," Toran countered. "Tavek's life is at stake."

"She may be Vulcan but she is not of our culture," Velek argued.

"Why are you talking about me like I'm not even here?" Mavis whined.

They both ignored her and continued to stare at each other. Toran said, "She ran away from home to travel to Vulcan-"

"She did not know Vulcan was our final destination."

"Even still, she has Vulcan ancestry and she is now immigrating to Vulcan. There is a benefit to educating her in Vulcan principles-"

"No," Velek insisted, trying to keep his tone neutral. Mavis persisted in her verbal protest in the corner, but they didn't acknowledge her.

A muscle in Toran's forehead twitched. "Do not allow your own feelings for this woman to affect-"

"I have no deep affection for her," Velek interjected.

Toran bobbed his head and replied, "As distasteful as this is, it is more logical than allowing Tavek to die."

"You said yourself his physical assault on me may have been enough to overcome his affliction."

"It is only logical to cultivate multiple options. In the event that your fight was insufficient to-"

" _Shut up_!" Mavis shrieked. She was loud enough that it broke their concentration and forced them to finally regard her. When it was apparent she had their undivided attention, she crossed her arms and said, "I'm standing right here."

"Yes, you are," Toran admitted. "And I would prefer to apprise you of certain facets of our culture, even though they are unseemly, in order to allow you to make an informed choice."

"Choice about _what_?"

"Please leave my quarters," Velek said to Toran, not bothering to quench the hostility in his voice.

Toran turned back to him. "If Tavek was successful in initiating a bond with her, she may attempt to leave the room and seek him out anyway-"

"Get out!" Velek said, rising to his feet. Toran was at least ten centimeters taller than he was and Velek was in no condition to force the man to leave, but he was so angry he felt capable of at least trying if Toran were to refuse.

"You are becoming emotional."

Velek could hardly argue with his assessment, but he was too angry to care. He could meditate later, but for now, he just wanted Toran gone. Toran looked from Mavis and back to Velek several times, packed his medical kit, and said, "I will return with your midday meal in two hours. I urge you to reconsider your position on this matter."

When the door shut behind him and the locks engaged, Velek slumped back down on the bare mattress.

"Are you going to tell me what the hell that was about?" Mavis glared at him.

Velek blinked several times. Perhaps she did deserve the right to make her own choice, but the idea that she might choose to mate with Tavek was intolerable. Perhaps Toran had been right in more ways than one.

* * *

Mavis twirled her hair and gazed up at the ceiling of the sonic shower. The pulses vibrating over her body were delicious and she'd never felt so clean in all her life. She probably should have gotten out a long time ago, but there wasn't much to look forward to out in the room. Velek said he wanted to meditate and she wasn't sure how long that was supposed to take him, but apparently it was something he wanted to do in private.

Boredom was only making the tension so much worse. Despite her best efforts to pry an explanation out of Velek, she still had no idea what his bizarre conversation with Toran had been about. Allowing her imagination to fill in the blanks was doing little to help ease her anxiety.

Were Vulcans part of some secret cult? Velek kept saying things like "she's not part of our culture," which gave her the distinct impression there were some hideous skeletons hiding in the closet of Vulcan society. She supposed that was true for most cultures, even advanced ones. Lahress had once told her of a secret society on Cait that hosted vicious gladiatorial matches, though they'd both been pretty drunk at the time and she wasn't sure how much she believed him.

Whatever Toran kept insinuating she should do to help Tavek, it sounded really bad. Her mind ran the gamut from letting him drink her blood to ritual sacrifice. But how could any of those things make a sick person better? Then again, how could _fighting_ make a sick person better?

A knock at the door startled her out of her tangled thoughts. She turned off the sonic shower. "Yes?"

Velek's muffled voice called through the door, "I have finished meditating. Thank you for allowing me my privacy."

She stepped out of the shower and reached for her thin, faded clothing. "Yeah, no problem."

She dressed quickly and when she emerged from the lavatory, she found him standing at the door, holding a set of clothes. She almost thought he was about to offer them to her—they were roughly the same size, after all—but he stepped past her. She supposed the idea that he wanted to take a shower wasn't all that unreasonable: Toran had patched up the cuts on his face but he still had dried blood caked on his shirt, face, and hands. They nodded to each other as he shut the door behind him.

He had remade the lower bunk with a new set of sheets and the vomit-covered bedding in the corner was now gone. Since there was nothing else to do, Mavis flopped onto the top bunk and tried to clear her mind.

For whatever idiotic reason, the first thing that popped into her head was the image of Velek in the shower. The semi-transparent mirror between her hiding place and the lavatory meant she didn't need to imagine what he might look like naked. She _knew_. His slender body was structured around a light framework of bone and muscle and apart from his square shoulders and block-shaped hips, might be considered more feminine than masculine. But he definitely _was_ male.

She felt a pulling sensation low in her belly and cringed. She closed her eyes and tried to swallow the embarrassment that was coming from analyzing Velek's naked body. The more she tried to stop thinking about him, the worse it got.

What was wrong with her? Velek wasn't really attractive and it wasn't like she'd never seen a naked man. Before he died last winter in a snowstorm, Voren, the guy who lived several houses up the road, used to get drunk and wander the neighborhood in the buff on occasion before someone corralled him and took him back home. And every so often, someone would get thrown out of T'Lia's place for some infraction and end up in the muddy street clutching a set of clothes and wearing nothing but a smile.

So she'd seen naked men before, but she'd never _been_ with one. Not like that. Not even close. No one had ever sat her down and told her what sex was, but she had a lifetime of experience in Nebor's End to put the pieces together. She knew enough of what went on in places like T'Lia's and had spent her teens surrounded by girls who snuck off with boys and ended up with a squalling litter of messy kids swinging from their teats within a few years. Boys were a certain ticket to abject poverty and misery.

When the lavatory door suddenly opened, Mavis flinched. She didn't dare look in Velek's direction for fear that he would somehow know what was on her mind. She heard him moving around and felt the wiggle of the bed when he sat down on the lower bunk. Eventually she worked up the courage to ask, "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes."

"Your shower is really nice."

He hesitated a beat and replied, "It is a shower."

"We don't have sonic showers in Nebor's End. We wash with water."

"I see."

Deciding she'd done enough to break the ice, she closed her eyes and asked, "What does Toran want me to do to help Tavek?"

"As I said before, I have no wish to discuss this with you."

"Don't you think he's right though?" she asked, sitting up. "Even if it's really awful or weird or gross, what's the harm in telling me and letting me decide what I want to do?"

"Do you really suppose your decision can be freely made?"

"What do you mean?"

"If knowing that you must either do an unpleasant thing or another person will die, do you not suppose that you might feel compelled to do that thing and subsequently act in a way that you otherwise never would?"

"I see your point, but until I even know what you're talking about, I can't really say."

"Will you permit me to make a query?"

"Sure."

"When Tavek had your face in his hands, did you… feel anything?"

"Scared, I guess? He was squeezing me pretty hard and he wouldn't let go."

"Yes, but did you experience any sensation of…connection?"

She leaned over the top bunk to see his face, pleased to see that a shower had done a lot to improve his appearance. "What does that even mean?"

He shook his head and thought to himself for a moment. "Do you have any desire to visit Tavek?"

She made a face. "No? I don't know the guy. I don't like that he attacked us, but I don't want him to die, especially if he only attacked us because he's got some kind of Vulcan logic disease, which is kind of weird, by the way. If logic can make you sick, is it even logical to be logical?"

He blinked several times and just as he was about to respond to her question, a violent force rocked the ship, pitching Mavis forward off the top bunk and onto the floor below. The suddenness of it, coupled with the blow to her body as she landed, knocked the wind out of her. She gasped for air and tried to roll over, but the ship seemed to be rolling with her.

A strong pair of hands grabbed her under the armpits and hoisted her to her feet. She sensed Velek was yelling at her, but it was hard to make out what he was saying over the wail of a claxon and the blood rushing through her own ears. He dragged her to the door and began fumbling with the door controls. Mavis blinked slowly, numb to the danger around her. Another blow pummeled the ship, sending them both careening hard into the wall.

In a voice much too calm for the situation, a computerized voice declared, " _Warning, containment field at fifteen percent. Depressurization imminent_."

"Override door lock protocols due to critical emergency!" Velek shouted into the computer screen by the door.

When the door opened, Mavis was alarmed to discover there was no wall on the opposite side of the corridor. They were being separated from black, empty space and certain death by a shimmering force field. A dazzling, green explosion appeared several hundred meters ahead. Mavis finally found her voice and used it to start screaming.

Velek wrapped a hand around her wrist and started dragging her down the hallway. The vessel bucked a third time, knocking them both to the floor, but soon they were both up and running toward the back of the ship. A door panel was open to the right, revealing a large space for two escape pods, one of which had already been deployed.

" _Warning, containment field at five percent. Depressurization imminent_ ," the computer reminded them.

"Get in the escape pod," Velek yelled, shoving her forward.

"What are you going to do?" Mavis yelped, catching herself on the pod's open door.

"Find another escape pod. There are more on the port side."

"I don't think there's time," she shouted. "Don't leave me!"

"Go!" he insisted, turning away from her.

She grabbed the back of his shirt. "There's room in the pod for both of us."

"You stand a greater chance of survival by yourself," he argued, wrestling free of her grip.

She wasn't in the mood for this ridiculous back and forth, nor did she want to drift through space alone in an escape pod. She gritted her teeth, gripped his forearm hard enough to draw blood with her fingernails, and pulled him into the pod with strength she wasn't aware she had. The moment the door slid shut behind them, an exhilarating and disorienting force projected them upward and soon they were sailing among a debris field at an alarming rate of speed.

They slammed against the back wall of the pod, splayed awkwardly over the single bucket seat. The weight of his body on top of hers, coupled with the g-force produced by the sudden acceleration was nearly enough to make her pass out. The last thing she recalled seeing just before she faded from consciousness was the haunting image of an alien ship speeding toward them in a hail of phaser fire.

She wasn't sure what made her come to, but the first thing she noticed was the truly awful smell. It stank like urine and stale dander and damp, worse than anything she'd ever encountered in Nebor's End. She opened her eyes, horrified to discover she was lying on her side and facing a set of bars. A quick scan side to side and upward suggested she was being held in some kind of cage.

She pushed herself up onto her hands, locking her elbows and looking around. There were other people in here with her, but none of them looked like her Vulcan friend.

"Velek?"

" _Shhh_!" someone hissed.

"Velek!"

" _Shut up_ ," a woman muttered. "They'll hear you."

She tried to sit up properly and when she did, she discovered Velek's unconscious body lying next to hers, partially hidden by a black shadow being cast by a towering figure beyond the bars.

"Velek? Please, wake up! Velek, please- _ahhhh_!"

A sudden, splitting pain coursed through her neck and all the way down to the tips of her toes. It took her breath away and nearly sent her spiraling back into unconsciousness.

"No talking!" barked a masculine voice with a strange accent.

Despite being laid out on her back and gasping for air, she managed to turn her neck enough to see a huge green man pull a broad stick back through the bars, violet-colored light fading from the business end of his weapon.

She had seen a stick like that before: the few Orions who lived in Nebor's End carried them into the woods to protect themselves from attacks by wild animals, but only a sadist would use them on innocent people. Despite the lingering pain in her chest, she tried to sit up a second time to check on Velek, but she was mesmerized by the Orion man with the phaser prod.

He shocked a strange-looking bald man with mottled gray skin in the cage across from hers and yelled, "No leaning against the bars!"

The man screamed and crumpled to the floor, just as she had done moments earlier, and their Orion jailer moved on to the next cage, presumably to find someone else to torture. As her eyes adjusted to the horrific sights around her, she began to shake.

Hundreds of people of all species were packed into dozens of cages in a massive, poorly-lit room. Some were sleeping, some were silently sobbing, but most were staring off into the distance with frightening resignation. She wasn't sure if hell was an actual place, but she supposed an Orion slaver's market was close enough.


	6. Morituri te salutant

**Stardate 2257.178  
** **Location: Unknown**

Many cultures had mythologies about an afterlife of eternal punishment. Humans had Hell and Andorians had Sharesh, for example. Almost all of those myths described places like the one Velek found when he opened his eyes.

It was dark and muffled howls and whispers trickled through the darkness. It was damp and smelled strongly of ammonia. There were other unidentifiable assaults to his olfactory senses, none of them pleasant. If fear were a smell, the room would be rife with it.

He found bars enclosing his position and reached for them to pull himself up into a sitting position, but a blue hand swatted him away, hissing, " _Don't touch the bars_."

He complied with the stranger's demand, curious about how he came to be locked in a cage with an Andorian man, along with a pair of Tellarite men and what appeared to be an entire Ithenite family. It took nearly a full minute for him to process the series of events that had led to him waking up in this grimmest of places. He scanned the room as he thought, distracted by the display of random species packed into long rows of cages.

In the pen directly across from his, there were three Nausicaans, two Xindi reptilians, two Antarans, a Klingon, and a man who looked like a Vulcan with a deformity in his forehead. Perhaps he was Rigelian. To the right of them, three long, spindly onyx-black aliens with red eyes had a cage all to themselves and wore blinking collars. Where were his own people? He glanced around his own enclosure and failed to find a familiar face.

Panic began to overtake his pain as his primary concern. Where was Mavis? The ambassador? Toran and Tavek and Mavis? Where was Mavis? He closed his eyes and tried to focus, then realized the last time he saw her, they were tossing about through space in an escape pod. Memories of the ship being torn apart and green phaser blasts came into the forefront of his mind.

This was an Orion slave market. The ship must have been attacked by Orion slavers, but _why_? Many decades earlier, Orions made incursions into Federation space and the Federation made them pay dearly for it. They wouldn't dare attack any Federation ship in Federation space, let alone a Vulcan diplomatic vessel. A sinking feeling wound its way through his chest.

During his meeting with Sovok the previous day, the ambassador's public relations officer mentioned an altered flight plan that would allow them to return to Vulcan nineteen hours earlier, which had forced them to rearrange the ambassador's schedule. Velek had been so preoccupied with having Mavis for a new roommate that he hadn't taken the time to fully consider what that meant. The Yakaran sector was at the very fringes of Federation space and the most direct route back to Vulcan included a small stretch through the outskirts of Orion territory.

Even still, an attack on a Vulcan diplomatic vessel wouldn't go ignored in the Federation. The Orions _must_ know that. His eyes searched the cages again, but there was no sign of the ambassador or anyone else. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, ignoring the blinding pain in his shoulder and elbow. Why was it becoming so difficult to breathe?

"Velek?" whispered a voice.

"Mavis?" he called, turning around.

" _Shhh_." From the shadows at the back of the cage, the most beautiful sight emerged. She crawled the short distance to him on her hands and knees and pulled him into a hug. A proper Vulcan would have resisted the physical contact, but at present, it was the most welcome thing in the world.

"Sorry I left you alone," she muttered. "I was talking to Smyra."

" _Who_?"

"The Xyrillian woman over there," she replied, nodding to the darkness. Velek supposed the pair of feet sticking out from the shadows was the person she referred to. "She's been here for nine days and tells me it doesn't get much better than this. And keep your voice down; we're not supposed to talk. When the guards come back down this way, keep your mouth shut and don't touch the bars. They have phaser prods and trust me, they hurt."

He swallowed and in a lower tone asked, "Have you seen Ambassador Sarek or the others?"

She pursed her lips and shook her head. The turn of her face exposed a deep purple bruise forming across her left cheek. Was that from the violent ride in the escape pod or something else? He supposed from the aching of his own body, he must have quite a few bruises of his own.

"Smyra says there are other rooms though," she finally explained. "She was brought here after her family traded her to the Orions for dilithium to get home. She says there are at least four more rooms like this one."

This knowledge did little to help him relax. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"I'm not sure," she replied. "I don't know how long I was out either. Apparently the Orions give their captives sedatives. I woke up about four hours ago. Hey, are you hungry?"

His stomach responded for him with a symphony of gurgling. She gave a small smile, an expression that almost seemed obscene in a place like this. She pulled something square from inside her shirt and offered it to him. "I saved some of my protein bar for you."

He gingerly took her paltry offering. It was hard and gray with weird greenish-purple flecks running throughout. He wasn't even certain it was food.

"It's not delicious, trust me," she said, noticing his hesitation. "But it's ok. Just don't spend too much time chewing."

"This is all we're given to eat?" he asked, nibbling at the end. It tasted like crumbly cement.

"That's the other half of my ration," she explained. "I tried to ask for an extra ration for you, but the guard didn't like that idea."

Her hand went up to the bruise on her face but stopped short of actually touching it. A curious blend of anger and gratitude engulfed him. He was struck by her generosity but furious that someone would have hurt her.

He continued to chew on the protein bar and was about to ask Mavis more questions about their captors when he noticed she was staring hard at something in the distance. He glanced around the pen and noticed the others all seemed to be observing the same thing. He turned his head has much as his stiff neck would allow and discovered three cloaked figures flanked by two burly Orion men moving in their direction.

"Yes, the Ba'ul," one of the hooded people said, his voice feathery as the words passed through a universal translator. "They are quite the find."

They stopped in front of the three tall, black aliens and observed them. So these were the Ba'ul? Velek had never seen one—he doubted whether anyone ever had. They were quite an infamous species, most notorious for their advanced technology and keeping a race of intelligent beings known as the Kelpiens as livestock, which occasionally led to them being called predator Kelpiens. Whatever they were, they were _terrifying._

Another one of the cloaked visitors gently stroked the bar of the cage, leading to two of the Ba'ul to throw themselves at it and scream in rage. Their language was high-pitched and screeching. The hairs on the back of Velek's neck stood erect and he questioned whether his eardrums would burst.

One of the Orions made a note on a PADD and asked, "Any others?"

"Yes, we have a number of dignitaries visiting next month and want to put on something special. We'll have everyone in the next cage too."

"Sons of targs!" shouted the Klingon.

"Oh do shut up, Kovos," the Vulcan with the unusual forehead next to him sighed.

" _I will kill each and every_ -"

The Orion man halted the Klingon's bellicose speech by shoving a prod through the bars and shocking him into unconsciousness.

"I _did_ try to tell him," the Vulcan said with a wry smile.

The Orion held up the prod and shook it at him. "Do you want to end up like your friend?"

The Vulcan raised his eyebrows. "That won't be necessary."

"That brings your total to ten," the Orion with the PADD announced. "That will be fifty thousand each for the Ba'ul, thirty each for the Klingons and Nausicaans, twenty for the Romulan, and because you're such loyal customers, the boss is willing to give you the others for ten thousand."

Velek blinked. The Romulan? The only logical explanation was that they were referring to the Vulcan man with the distinctive forehead. Was it possible Vulcans and Romulans shared a common ancestry? This was a monumental revelation, but he wasn't permitted time to dwell on it. The person in the hood lifted a hand to his face and nodded. "I still require something special for the finale."

"We have two Xindi aquatics that will arrive tomorrow," the Orion with the PADD announced.

Another of the cloaked figures scoffed. "What do you expect us to do with those? Install a fish tank? They'd be ruinously expensive to showcase. We don't have the infrastructure."

"Are those _Vulcans_?"

The group rotated to face the cage housing Velek and Mavis. An exhilarating sensation shot up through his arm, through his chest, and down to the tips of his toes.

"We have another buyer interested in them," the Orion with the PADD declared.

This news stunned Velek. One of the men with the hoods stepped closer, revealing himself to be Caitian, which only spawned a dozen more questions. Cait was a Federation member and yet here were Caitians, _buying_ people in blatant violation of Federation law.

" _There's_ our finale," he announced, twirling his whiskers as a smile stretch across his feline face. "Brawn and brains."

"I like it," said one of the other hooded men, inching closer to the light to reveal he was also Caitian. "We'll take them too."

"My other buyer is offering fifty each for them."

"We'll pay sixty."

"I'm confident the other buyer will beat that price. I couldn't let them go for less than ninety each."

" _Ninety_?" snarled one of the Caitians. "Ninety is practically theft. The male isn't even that big."

"Vulcans are hard to come by. These are the only two we've had in more than three years."

As their potential new owners began to haggle over their price, Velek felt himself go numb. He looked down at his lap to see Mavis had grabbed his hand and was clutching it tightly, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. It was entirely illogical, but he squeezed Mavis' hand in return.

The visitors disappeared, wandering down the row of cages to continue their negotiations.

"What do you think they mean by brawn and brains?" Mavis squeaked.

"I do not know. Perhaps they were referring to the belief that Vulcans are both intelligent and strong."

"I don't know about you, but I'm not all that strong."

" _Neither am I_ ," Velek thought. While it was true that Vulcans tended to have more strength and endurance than other species, Velek had never considered himself a shining archetype of the classical Vulcan male. He'd been small since birth and during that short period when his father had encouraged him to take up martial arts, he'd lost every single match.

"What do you think the Caitians want with us?"

"I do not know," he replied. "Yet it seems likely the ambassador and the others are dead if we are the only two Vulcans these slavers have had in three years."

Mavis' eyes closed. "Maybe they got away."

Rather than refute her poor logic, he glanced down at her hand, which was still fully wrapped in his. What a curious sensation this was. It felt nice and oddly comforting. When she finally pulled her hand away to wipe the tears from her face, he had to stop himself from refusing to let her go.

"Does crying make you feel better?" he asked.

" _No_ ," she sniffed. "It's just something that happens. Don't tell me you've never cried."

"Not since I was a small child."

"I guess tears aren't logical," she replied with a roll of her eyes.

The double tap of a metal instrument on the bars made one of the younger Ithenites in the cage yelp and made both him and Mavis involuntarily jump. An Orion man was standing by the bars with a prod and a PADD.

"Vulcans, let's go."

Neither of them moved, which caused him to tap the prod against the bars and say, "You don't want to cause trouble. It's not worth it."

Velek rose to his feet, fighting to keep from crying out in pain. There was something wrong with his ankle, which he had not realized until now. Mavis put his arm over her shoulders and tried to help him walk. Guards were also extracting the Antarans, Xindi, and Romulan from the opposite cage and soon they were being filed through the narrow pathway between the rows of cages.

One of the guards flipped open a communicator and said, "We'll need a medical transport for the Klingon, plus muzzles for the Nausicaans. Let's get the Ba'ul last."

As he hobbled along, he realized whatever their fate had been, it was now firmly entwined with the Caitians. Logic could not tell him what was in store for them, but intuition suggested it was nothing good.

* * *

She was drowning but she couldn't move. Her lungs were burning and she felt powerless to swim upwards to the surface of the water with dead arms and legs. But was she really underwater? There was no buoyant force pushing against her body and she didn't feel wet.

" _Breathe_!" someone shouted.

So she did. It was among the most painful of breaths as her lungs filled with air for what felt like the first time in forever. She wondered if they would burst from the strain but again and again she breathed until the agony of that first breath faded away, and soon her surroundings came into sharper focus.

She was on her hands and knees in a large, circular room with semi-reflective panels lining the walls. Next to her, three Caitians in gray uniforms pulled on a handle on an oval-shaped door in the wall and a long compartment in the wall rolled out, revealing an Antaran man sleeping with his hands across his chest. They pressed a button and gas began to hiss out of the chamber, causing the Antaran man to begin twitching.

" _Breathe_!" yelled one of the Caitians.

He did, and just as Mavis had done seconds earlier, he fell out of the chamber onto the floor and sucked in desperate breaths. They had been put in suspended animation, but when? How? The last memory she had was being herded onto a vessel with Velek, the Xindi reptilians, the Antarans, and the swarthy-looking Romulan man.

"Mavis?" gasped a voice.

She pivoted on her knees and saw Velek choking for air on the floor behind her suspended animation pod. She took several shuddering breaths and replied, "I'm here."

A shadow fell over her and she saw two Caitian men standing over her. "On your feet. Move."

Even though the words had an unmistakable authoritative tone, they weren't holding any weapons and didn't seem particularly threatening. Still, Mavis decided she was in no shape to be offering any kind of resistance, especially when she didn't know where she was or even what _year_ it was. From what she'd heard, people could be held in suspended animation for _centuries_.

She and the others were marched into an adjacent room and ordered to occupy biobeds lining both sides of the walls. Velek was directly across from her and in the full overhead light, she could see just how awful he looked. Angry bruises streaked his face and he was holding himself in a way that suggested incredible pain.

" _Are you ok?_ " she mouthed when he looked in her direction.

He gave a small nod and mouthed back, " _You?_ "

She wasn't sure how to answer, so she nodded back. Were they lying to themselves or each other or both?

A Caitian man in a blue overcoat appeared in front of her and the instant he raised his arm, she flinched. In his right hand was what appeared to be a medical tricorder, and in his left, a hypospray. She yelped when he delivered an injection into her neck, but the stiffness and aches in her body began melting away.

"Vulcan female, approximate age is twenty-five years, height is 167.5 centimeters, mass is 55.8 kilograms, adjusted for local gravity, weight is fifty-nine kilograms even. No major physical defects, all organs appear to be functioning normally. Mild dehydration and evidence of previous malnutrition, but otherwise healthy."

He snapped his finger next to her right ear, prompting her to turn and look at it, then he held the tricorder to her left eye and scanned it. "Hearing and vision are within normal range."

The man in the blue overcoat moved onto Velek while another man came and tended to the bruises on Mavis' face and shoulder. Other than a tiny pinch to the crook of her arm to inject fluids into her body, no one harmed her in any way. On the opposite biobed, two men were tending to Velek's injuries and for the first time in a long time, Mavis started to feel hopeful. Who would give people free medical care if they intended to hurt them?

They were shepherded into the hallway and directed toward another room, but when Mavis tried to enter, she was stopped and directed to a room next door. She started to protest, but the man firmly gripped her elbow, not hard enough to cause pain, but certainly hard enough to let her know he meant business. The fear began to rise again, at least until she realized she had been escorted into a bathroom.

She was given a stack of clean clothing and ordered to shower, informed that someone would collect her in fifteen minutes. She washed quickly, trying to ignore the fear that someone was watching her through a hidden camera, then dressed faster than she ever had in her life. The undergarments and undershirt were breathable and the gray two-piece uniform seemed tailored to fit and was incredibly soft. The brown boots were the nicest footwear Mavis had ever owned—light, flexible, and supportive without pinching in a single place. She couldn't tell if the getup made her look more like a soldier or prisoner or something in between.

A short time later, a Caitian man knocked on the door—a pleasantry surely no one would have granted to a prisoner—and then showed her back into the corridor where the men were waiting for her, all of them dressed similarly to her and looking impeccably clean. The Romulan man cleared his throat and inquired, "May I ask what the purpose of all this is?"

A tall, gruff-looking Caitian man in a black uniform scowled but did not acknowledge his question. "Follow me, single file. No talking."

Three other Caitians in black uniforms sporting phasers on utility belts appeared, one taking up position in the rear while the others walked alongside the peculiar formation. At the end of the hall, a hatch opened to reveal a vast, orange-brown desert landscape and she fleetingly fantasized they were on Vulcan. The sand was soft and she fully expected her feet to sink into it and make walking difficult, but the boots seemed designed to allow them to almost float atop the loose earth. Mountains rose around them on all sides in the distance and the sun blazed directly overhead, casting tiny shadows at their feet as they marched in the direction of several tall, circular buildings flanking a large domed structure.

Their Caitian leader pulled out a communicator and barked, "I'm moving seven into the primary pens."

" _Primary pens are full_ ," replied a voice. " _They'll have to go in secondary_."

"Boss wants the Ba'ul and Klingon isolated in the secondary pens. We'll have to double them up."

The person on the other end delivered a flurry of curse words then replied, " _Acknowledged. Bring them in and we'll make room_."

Mavis looked back at Velek to see if she could tell what he was thinking, but one of the Caitians snapped his fingers at her and hissed. There was no sense in causing trouble until she knew what kind of trouble she was in, so she turned back around and kept walking. They were led into the domed building and entered a circular hallway with numbered doors on the interior side.

Two more Caitians joined their group and started discussing housing arrangements. A frightening-looking white Caitian with a torn ear and artfully shaved face pointed at the Antarans and asked, "Doctor says you're brothers: any reason you two might want to kill each other?"

The Antarans looked at each other and shook their heads in bewilderment.

The white Caitian smirked and said, "Good. Move the Denobulan in sixteen into pen eight with the other Denobulan and give the Antarans sixteen."

He then surveyed Velek and Mavis. "Doctor says you two aren't related. Are you mates?"

"No," they answered in horrified unison.

"You two ever mated with each other?"

" _No_ ," they both replied, unable to hide the disgust in their voice.

The Caitian turned to look at Mavis. "Do you want him to mate with you?"

" _No_ ," she spat, her face growing hot. "What kind of question is that?"

"Wow, _rejected_." The white Caitian smiled at Velek. The others, Xindi and Romulan prisoners included, brayed with laughter. The Caitian turned back to Mavis. "Didn't think so, but I had to ask. If I put you in a pen together, will you play nice with each other?"

Velek and Mavis exchanged confused glances, but the moment she caught his eye, she looked away in shame, still thinking about the man's insinuation that they might have sex with each other. It was Velek who answered first. "We are friends. We will not hurt each other."

"Fine, I can move the Andorian into eleven and give them pen twenty," he said, making a note on his PADD. He turned to Velek, pulled a jackknife from his belt, and pointed it at him. "I don't like putting males and females together. People do weird things when they feel desperate. If I catch you trying to mate with her against her will, I will cut your balls off, understand?"

Velek's mouth hung open in shock and revulsion and for whatever strange reason, Mavis inappropriately laughed aloud. His threat was in no way funny, but the idea that scrawny, _logical_ little Velek would try to sexually assault her seemed impossible.

"Do you understand?" the man repeated, taking a step toward Velek. "I heard a rumor once that Vulcans have some weird mating rituals-"

"Yes, I- I understand," Velek stammered, desperate to keep from explaining pon farr to a room full of strangers. "I will not violate her in any way."

The other Caitians laughed, but the white one said, "Good. That's not the kind of operation we're running here."

"What kind of operation _are_ you running?" Velek asked. "What is this place?"

The man smirked. "Get them into pen twenty."

They were led down the curved hall to the right by an orange Caitian in a black uniform, passing an Andorian man carrying a blanket and pillow on the way. The man seemed healthy and unconcerned, but that did little to make Mavis feel better. They arrived in front of a door at the end of the hall marked with strange script Mavis didn't recognize and beneath the Caitian writing was the Standard number twenty.

They entered the cell voluntarily and both flinched when the door slid shut behind them, then buzzed with the activation of a force field. The room was plain, painted off-white, and roughly three meters wide by four meters long. There was a toilet and sink in the corner by the door and two bedrolls folded along the opposite wall.

After nearly a minute of stunned silence, Mavis asked, "Where do you think we are?"

"Some kind of prison on Cait."

"How can this be a prison? They're being _nice_. They treated our injuries and gave us clean clothes."

"That is the minimal treatment guaranteed to prisoners under the Federation charter and I would hardly call their behavior _nice_ ," he argued. He turned and nodded to the door. "We are moved from location to location by armed guards. We have not been greatly abused, but neither are we free to leave."

"We didn't commit any crimes," Mavis breathed, lifting her hands to massage her scalp and pacing the room. "And isn't Cait a member of the Federation? Isn't slavery illegal in the Federation?"

"It is, but there is a difference between slaves and prisoners. We have no indication they intend to force us to work or perform acts we would not consent to. The guard seemed particularly keen to protect you from attacks on your honor."

She blushed furiously. "Ok, but who would buy people just to lock them in prison for no reason?"

"I do not know." The solemnness of his tone sent shivers down her spine.

"I'm scared, Velek."

"There is no logic in fear. We do not know there is anything to fear just yet."

"How can you say that?" she said, tears threatening to rain down her face.

"Because it is as you yourself mentioned: we have been treated well thus far."

The gentle, constant _thrum_ of the force field ceased and a slat near the bottom of the door opened. Two trays of steaming hot food were slid into the cell and just as quickly, the slat closed and the force field was reactivated. They stared at the offering in amazement. Piles of noodles and vegetables were heaped onto each of the plates.

"Apparently they serve traditional Vulcan fori and mashya for meals," Velek mused, crouching down to examine the food.

Mavis had never heard of fori, but mashya was a vegetable grown in Nebor's End, which most of the non-Vulcan locals called yellow potatoes. Until now, Mavis would have sworn she were hungry, but any appetite she may have had disappeared as she gazed at the food unceremoniously delivered to her prison cell. Despite this, she grabbed one of the trays and began shoving the food into her mouth. In Nebor's End, a good rule of thumb was to eat what you could when you could, because the next meal wasn't always guaranteed.

It was among the most delicious meals she'd ever consumed, surpassing even the noddle dish she had aboard the Vulcan ship. The mashya was roasted to perfection and nearly melted on her tongue and the green shoots Velek referred to as fori were sweet and crunchy. Velek reluctantly followed her lead, collecting the other tray and sitting down across from her on the floor.

"This is probably the best meal I've ever had," she reluctantly admitted, pausing halfway through.

"It is quite good," he agreed, a troubled expression written into his features.

Just before they finished eating, the frequency of the sound emitted by the force field shifted and the opposite wall of the room began to slide upward into the ceiling. They jumped back, unsure of what would be on the other side. It seemed to be an extension of their current cell, only the walls were semi-translucent, the floor was sand, and the new space occupied a massive area that looked like a circular arena. Mavis stepped forward, cautiously holding her hand out to touch the space where the former wall had been, but there was no hidden force field.

She stepped onto the sand and looked around. They were not alone. They were at one end of a circle with dozens of other cube-shaped force fields containing other prisoners in gray uniforms stretching out in both directions. The setup reminded her of dog kennels, as though their cells were supposed to be hardened shelter to protect them from the elements but they also had a laughably tiny adjacent outdoor area for exercise and recreation. In the cell to their left, she recognized the Nausicaans who had come with them from the Orion slave market. To the right, she saw the Klingon.

The Klingon was yelling, but the force field surrounding his outdoor pen completely muted the sounds coming from his mouth. He threw himself into the brilliant lines of energy and clearly got a violent shock, then he got up and did it again. Again and again he tossed himself at the force field containing him until two Caitians appeared behind him and sedated him.

In the center of the arena, a large, circular screen descended from the ceiling. Words began to scroll by, first in weird, blocky Caitian script, then in Federation Standard. They moved far too fast for Mavis to make any sense of them, but she sensed Velek tense beside her. When had he joined her? She breathed out and was stunned to discover she'd been holding her breath.

She looked around at the other captives in their gray uniforms, the Nausicaans, the Romulan man, and an unidentified Gorn woman. All of them had their necks craned upward and were staring at the screen. Clearly, many of them didn't like what they read, because an uproar began. The captives were going wild, yelling and throwing themselves at the force fields and getting brutal shocks for their efforts. Because of the sound-dampening effects of their own force field, they watched the mayhem unfold in total silence.

Beside her, Velek sank to his knees and took a slow breath. His resignation was the most terrifying turn of events yet.

"Velek, what is it? What's wrong?"

He turned his head to look at her, shot her a puzzled look, and gestured to the screen, which was still ticking out Standard characters faster than Mavis could identify them.

She balled her hands into fists and said, "I can't read, ok? What does it say?"

He gave her a fleeting look of confusion but then explained, "It appears the Caitians have brought us here to participate in gladiatorial blood sports."

" _What_?" she shrieked. "We're supposed to fight?"

He gave a somber nod. "There are seven matches scheduled for tomorrow; we are to participate in the final bout."

"We're fighting each other?" she asked, her mouth suddenly drier than the sand she was standing on.

He shook his head. "No. You and I are to be pitted against the Ba'ul. Apparently, that is what the Caitians meant in the slaver's market when they spoke of brawn and brains, though perhaps it would have been more correct for them to have said 'brawn versus brains.' Ours is the headline match and has already drawn the greatest number of wagers."

Mavis barely heard anything he said after the word " _Ba'ul_." She fell to her knees beside him and mumbled, "We're going to be slaughtered."

"Yes," he conceded.

Mavis punched him hard in the arm. "You're not supposed to agree!"


	7. The Vulcan Love Slave

**Stardate Unknown  
** **Location: Cait**

It had been hours since either of them had uttered a word. Or perhaps it had only been a few minutes. Extreme emotional duress and a lack of windows or a clock made estimating time quite difficult, even for a Vulcan.

They were back in their cell after a painful, high-pitched noise drove them out of the outer enclosure—a tactic the Caitians employed to herd them like animals, no doubt. Velek realized he should feel trapped in this tiny room, but now that he knew what the Caitians intended to do with him and after he'd seen the other captives, the cell felt like a place of safety. It was difficult to quell the many emotions he felt about this situation, but he felt calmer when he looked at Mavis. Strange that her presence would be a comfort when for most of their acquaintance, it had been an annoyance.

Mavis was huddled in the corner opposite the toilet, the tears finally drying into salty residue on her face. She tapped the fingernails of her left hand against the floor in a discordant rhythm and muttered words to herself under her breath.

When he finally spoke, he barely recognized his own voice. "Mavis?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

Her head remained stationary but her eyes flicked in his direction. "What do _you_ think?"

"Perhaps it was a tactless question."

She sneered. "Yes, _perhaps_."

"Is that sarcasm?"

"Ugh, _yes_ , Velek."

"Aside from a human caretaker I had as a child, I have spent the majority of my life sequestered from things such as acerbity and sarcasm. I often fail to recognize it. I apologize."

Her face rotated through several expressions of disbelief and disgust before she asked, "You had a human nanny?"

"Tabitha, yes."

Mavis uttered a half-hearted laugh and rested her forehead in her palms. Velek watched her for several seconds and when he determined she wasn't preparing any kind of reply, he said, "I understand sarcasm is often the result of frustration and if this is the case, I believe your frustration may be misdirected."

She sighed. "Yeah, I know. And I'm sorry. Do you have any ideas for how to get out of this?"

"None. Though I must confess, I've been rather preoccupied with simply trying to accept and comprehend our present predicament."

"I used to think there couldn't be anywhere worse than Nebor's End," she said, her voice hollow. "It _was_ pretty horrible there. There were people who did awful things to other people, usually for money or drugs or drink."

"Do you not think it was poverty that led them to do such things?"

"Of course it was," Mavis sighed. "The point I was making is that even the worst person I can think of back home doesn't hold a candle to the messed-up stuff these Caitians are doing."

"I don't believe there's a comparison between the desperation of the people in Nebor's End and the sadism of our captors."

"Promise me one thing." She was suddenly cold and resolute.

"I cannot commit to an oath without knowing the conditions of the arrangement," he explained.

She closed her eyes and exhaled a sharp breath. "If one or both of us makes it out of this alive, we will expose what these people are doing here."

"That is a vow I will readily take." It was true. It was also an easy promise to make because the likelihood of them leaving this place was extremely small.

Her chin quivered and she hid her face behind her hands. Velek tried to focus on remaining calm, but as had happened so many times in the previous few days, he found it difficult. Not for the first time, he wondered if he were just exceptionally bad at being Vulcan. Unemotionalism seemed to come so naturally to other Vulcans, but for him, it had been a lifelong struggle.

He glanced at Mavis, who was still hanging her head in her hands. Did the V'tosh ka'tur have a similarly difficult time adhering to Surak's principles, or did they simply just not want to bother? A thought stuck him. Was a rejection of logic purely a failing of upbringing or was there some genetic component? There were occasionally members of other species who chose to follow logic, but having never met any of them, he could not say how successful they were at repressing their feelings.

"How can you be so calm?"

Velek stole another glance at Mavis and found her pressing the sides of her face together. He wanted to tell her that he was on the verge of losing his composure or admit that he was interested in trying crying, her clearly preferred method of relieving tension. Instead he gave a proper Vulcan answer.

"There is no logic in being hysterical over a situation we are currently powerless to affect."

"Are we really that powerless?" She stood suddenly and traced her hand over the wall. "We haven't tried looking for weaknesses, if we-"

"You are proposing we attempt to escape."

"It's better than waiting for our turn to be murdered by the Ba'ul."

"Even if we managed to break free of our cell, this facility seems to have a surplus of armed guards who are far more familiar with the layout than we are. Judging by the terrain we flew over, it is in an extremely remote part of a hostile desert environment, even by Vulcan standards. Where would we go?"

Her lips pursed into a thin slash. "Anywhere but into that arena."

"Your tenacity is admirable, but I do not think it is realistic."

"So you would rather fight the Ba'ul?"

"I would rather be safely at home on Vulcan right now," he corrected. "But I accept our match with the Ba'ul is likely inevitable. It would be wiser to invest our time into devising strategies for defeating them."

"Ok, fine. Give me some ideas."

"We have no concept of what the arena will look like, whether we'll be given weapons, or even how many of them we'll be fighting. There were three of them and two of us."

"That sounds more like accepting defeat than strategizing."

"We do not know what kind of scenario we may face and trying to contemplate the infinite number of possibilities would be impossible. We also know next to nothing about the Ba'ul as a species."

"I've never even heard of them," Mavis nodded. "But they're the tall, black aliens with the red eyes that had to wear stun collars and be transported separately, right?"

"Yes. They come from a planet called Kaminar. They're strict isolationists, warp capable and extremely adept with technology, and prey on another intelligent species native to Kaminar called the Kelpiens."

"They _eat_ people?"

"That is unknown."

"You just said they prey on a race called the Kelpiens."

"According to the account of the only known Kelpien ever to contact the Federation, the Kelpiens are a peaceful yet fearful species who voluntarily submit themselves to the Ba'ul as part of a relationship similar to that of ranchers and livestock under a system called The Great Balance. It is allegedly a predator and prey dynamic, but even the Kelpiens have never seen the Ba'ul. It is unknown if they actually eat them, though I suppose it's possible."

Mavis blinked several times. "And the Kelpiens just…go along with this?"

"It appears to be part of their religious practices. But as I said, there is only one Kelpien known to the Federation."

"And you just happen to know this Kelpien I'm guessing?"

"I have met him, yes, but we are not well acquainted. He serves in Starfleet aboard the same vessel as the ambassador's adoptive daughter. I also read about his asylum case during my studies at the Sokol Institute several years ago."

"The Sokol Institute?"

"It is where I attended advanced schooling."

Mavis gave him a quizzical look, prompting him to clarify, "I hold a degree in xenoanthropology from the Sokol Institute."

"Xenoanthropology?"

Velek began to feel a strange emotion similar to embarrassment, yet he could not understand what he might have to feel embarrassed about. "Xenoanthropology is the study of alien societies and cultures and their development."

She sighed. "I realize I'm not as educated as you, but I at least know what xenoanthropology is. I just never pegged you as someone who would study something like that."

He thought of Mavis' admission of illiteracy and his sense of awkwardness grew. His mediocrity as a student had been a near constant source of disappointment to his parents and as a result, Velek hadn't cared much for school. Yet somehow, he now felt grateful for the opportunity to have received an education at all.

"I don't want to die, Velek."

"Nor do I."

"So how do we beat the Ba'ul?"

"Even if we are victorious, our reprieve is almost certain to be short-lived."

She clenched her jaw and turned her back to him. "I can't just lay down and die, dammit!"

"Do you suppose if we defeat the Ba'ul, the Caitians will permit us to go free? They must know we would expose them."

"You know, I'm really tired of your negative attitude."

"Your extreme emotionalism has been quite draining also."

The thrum of the room's force field shifted and Mavis jumped back from the wall. Just as it had before, the wall at the other end of the room began to lift into the ceiling to reveal the arena beyond. Mavis started screaming obscenities, lamenting the injustice and barbarity of their captivity and just before she threw herself into the high-energy field, he caught her shoulders and held her back.

A group of Caitians came into view, three women and six men, all well-dressed and groomed, plus two of the guards in black clothing. The well-heeled guests smiled and pointed at each of them in turn and appeared to be having a discussion, which he couldn't hear through the sound-dampening force field. If they noticed that Mavis was threatening to kill them in any one of a dozen gruesome ways, they didn't show it.

The females and one of the males moved off to examine the occupant of the pen next to theirs, but five of the men remained to watch Mavis with rapt curiosity. She finally wrestled free of Velek's grip and was no longer hurling curses at their captors, but instead was standing mere centimeters away from the flickering force field, glowering at them in a way that suggested she believed looks could kill.

A large orange man twirled his whiskers and said something to one of the men in black. The guard checked something on his PADD and gave a reply. Velek had the distinct sense they were locked in a negotiation and nearly a minute later, all of the men began to smile.

"I hope you rot in a shallow grave, you sick, demented-"

The door to their cell slammed open, interrupting Mavis' diatribe and stunning them both. The white Caitian with the torn ear who had threatened to geld Velek stood in the doorway. He looked at Mavis. "Come with me, little one."

Mavis gave a reply explicitly demanding that the man should go engage in sexual intercourse with himself. The Caitian gave a thin-lipped smile. "You don't want to do this the hard way, I promise you."

"Or else _what_?" she spat. "You'll feed me to the Ba'ul?"

He crossed his arms and took a long look at Velek. "We could hurt your friend."

She inhaled a sharp breath. Velek felt strangely indifferent to the man's threat.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice quiet but steely.

"Will you come with me before I have to chop your friend's hand off? It would be a lot harder for him to fight tomorrow with a missing hand."

Velek was about to point out that it was not in the Caitian's best interest to maim one of his star contestants. There was no logic for any patron of this establishment to place a wager on the outcome of a fight that was heavily skewed in favor of one opponent. The man pulled a phaser from his belt and pointed it at Velek.

"It's your choice," he said, disengaging the weapon's safety and taking aim.

"I'll go," Mavis squeaked.

"Good."

"I hate you," she said tearfully, taking a half-step forward.

"I understand. Let's go."

"Mavis," Velek said apprehensively. "You don't have to do this."

She was halfway across the room when she stopped, turned, and said, "I do. I can't let someone else get hurt because of me."

"Yes, that's very sweet," the Caitian drawled. "Now move."

She was through the door and gone before Velek could think of another thing to say. One of the strongest emotions he ever experienced raced through him. Despair and fear quickly evaporated into anger. They had taken Mavis and now he was all alone and so was she. Why hadn't he done something?

It was strange to feel this way. She wasn't his mate after all, but she was his friend, his very dear friend, and it was offensive that someone would take his friend. Worse than the anger was the worry. Mavis was a young and very attractive woman and he didn't like the way the Caitian men had been looking at her.

He wrung his hands and began to pace. It was hardly dignified, but he didn't know what else to do. He retreated to the corner by the toilet and eventually sunk to the ground. He took slow breaths for the better part of an hour to refocus himself, but he was more lost than he'd ever been.

"Hello?" The voice was faint, tinny, and heavily accented. He sat up to better discern where it came from. "Is anyone there?"

He glanced at the toilet and wondered if he was hallucinating. The voice tried again. "Hello?"

"Hello," Velek replied. He leaned closer to the toilet, feeling very foolish, and repeated himself. "Hello?"

"You are the Vulcans captured by the Orion slavers, yes?"

Velek sat back. The voice was indeed coming from the toilet, probably a consequence of poor plumbing.

"Hello? Are you there?" the voice called.

"Yes. I'm here," he shouted into the toilet bowl. "They- they took my friend."

"I am sorry."

"Who are you?"

"I am called Jaaro."

Velek thought to himself. "You're Nausicaan?"

"Yes. I am getting out of here. Do you want in on this plan?"

"How do you propose to get out?"

"Maybe with a little bit of help from you."

"What can I do?"

"Does that mean you're in?"

"Only if we can get my friend out too."

"Pretty girl like that—who knows what the Caitians want with her. Nothing good, I bet."

What Velek did next shocked even him. He punched the wall so hard he almost wondered if he broke bones in his hand. He yelled a guttural yell and kicked the metal toilet so hard it left dents.

"Calm down," the voice said. "And save your strength. We will try to find your mate."

* * *

Mavis pulled at the loose threads in the carpet. She was curled up in a sheet and laying in a pile of chaos, feeling oddly bored and furious. When she followed the white Caitian out of her cell and into a nearby building, she hadn't expected to be escorted to a luxury apartment. When the two women appeared a short time later, she hadn't imagined they were there to essentially pamper her.

Yet here she was, freshly washed and groomed. Lasers had stripped every hair below her jaw from her body and the utter hairlessness made her feel like a helpless child. Her nails were filed into neat, rounded shapes and colored with vivid shades. Her hair was shinier than she would have dreamed possible and artfully braided into a beautiful sculpture atop her head and her face bore paints to exaggerate her features.

Some would say she looked very elegant, but Mavis thought she looked like a clown. A half-naked clown employed by T'Lia. The delightfully comfortable prison boots and soft uniform had disappeared following a bath in some kind of oily substance that left her skin feeling impossibly soft. The clothes that replaced them were also very soft, but left little to the imagination.

A lacy, semi-sheer robe barely concealed a skimpy purple brassiere and panties. The underwear were particularly revolting and impractical and possessed a weird half-skirt made of yellow, partially translucent fabric. It wasn't exactly a garment intended for everyday wear, that much was clear.

The fact that she was being forced to wear it gave her a frightening indication of what the Caitians intended to do with her too, but she wouldn't let them. It had taken her hours to tear the room apart in search of something that would smash out one of the windows and allow her to escape. After disassembling the bedframe and using one of the heavy rails as a battering ram, she could only conclude the windows must be made of reinforced aluminum glass, similar to what was installed on starships, the kind that was made to withstand being pummeled by all kinds of cosmic debris.

The sound of the door opening filled her with dread, but she didn't move from her place on the floor.

"You made quite the mess, didn't you?" called a familiar voice.

"Go to hell," she replied, not bothering to look at the white Caitian.

"Yes, I see you carved that into the wall. What'd you use?"

Mavis smirked. She could barely read, but that phrase had been easy enough to spell out, even if she wasn't entirely sure the word _hell_ had one L or two. "One of the drawer slides from the dresser."

"Boss sure isn't going to be happy."

"He can go to hell too."

"You can tell him yourself. Let's go."

"No."

"That wasn't a request."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

She heard him sigh and approach and braced herself to be hauled to her feet, but instead, an excruciating shock pierced her body. She twitched and writhed for what felt like forever and when it was done, she could barely catch her breath.

"Let's go."

"K-k-kiss m-my a-a-"

Another shock rippled through her body and lasted much longer than the first. The tears and shaking that resulted were entirely involuntary. She never imagined she would be tortured. How long could she stand up to it before she gave in?

"I realize your Vulcan friend isn't here, but I could bring him here and make you watch while I pull his fingernails out one by one."

Mavis closed her eyes and bit her cheek hard enough to draw blood. Why had she given in so easily when he threatened Velek? Now he knew her weakness and knew exactly how to hurt her. It wasn't that she cared about Velek so much that she would do anything to protect him; the thought of him being hurt because she was refusing to comply with basic orders wasn't an easy thing to swallow. And she hadn't been asked to do anything particularly repulsive. _Yet_.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position, keeping the sheet wrapped tightly against her body. She gazed up at the white Caitian, trying her best to look brave and cool. "Why do you do this job?"

"Pays well," he shrugged. "And it's a good outlet for my aggression. On your feet."

Mavis stood on shaking legs and tried to walk, but the lingering effects of the electrical shocks made her unsteady. The Caitian scoffed at the makeshift cloak she made from the bedding, but thankfully, he didn't make her take it off.

He led her down a wide hall with beautiful sconces and mirrors lining the walls. It gave the place a quality that was both romantic and eerie. Voices drifted from the room at the end of the long corridor, speaking in the breathy assonance of the Caitian native tongue. Mavis knew a few words thanks to Lahress, but not enough to really figure out what they were saying.

Upon entering the room, she found nearly a dozen men reclining on chaise lounges arranged in a semi-circle. The one nearest the door reached into a tall, ceramic bowl on a nearby table, extracted a tiny rodent by its tail, and dropped it into his mouth with a nauseating crunch. Mavis swallowed several times to keep the vomit at the back of her throat in her mouth.

When the men noticed Mavis' presence, amusement rippled through the room. A black Caitian with a white muzzle appeared to ask the orange man next to him a question. The orange man responded, laughter echoed through the room, and the white Caitian guard was dismissed. Mavis gripped the sheet around her body so hard she was afraid she would rip it.

"Would you care for a sand vole?" asked the man near the door in Standard, pointing at the bowl on the table.

"No thanks," she sneered.

The orange Caitian stood, clapped his hands, and addressed the other Caitians. "The arena promises a unique entertainment experience, but it isn't always blood and gore. Tonight you're in for a special treat."

"No, you're not," Mavis interjected.

Her sharp reply was met with curious chuckles and lots of long glances between Mavis and the orange Caitian. His eyes narrowed, but he never dropped his smile.

"Have you heard of the novel _The Vulcan Love Slave_?"

Mavis said nothing. There was nothing to say.

He continued. "I've never read it personally, but my mate says it's a very… _sensual_ story. Legend has it, Vulcans are quite the lovers."

One of the Caitians near the back made a yowling sound like a tomcat in heat and the others roared with laughter. The orange Caitian grinned and turned back to Mavis. "How about you show us what's under that sheet?"

"No."

Her defiance sucked all the mirth out of the room. Her eyes locked with the orange Caitian's. They were bulbous and green and the diamond-shaped pupils were broadening.

"Saresh, I did not come here to watch a girl get violated," said one of the men, sitting up from his recliner.

"Who said she would be violated?" the orange Caitian replied. "She's just here to dance for us. Stroke our whiskers. Feed us some voles."

Perhaps the language she used to tell him she had no intention of doing any of those things was a bit coarse, but she didn't care. The orange Caitian's eyes grew wider. In four smooth strides, he cleared the distance between himself and Mavis.

"Do you want to fight in the arena tomorrow?"

"Of course I don't."

"Dance for us, and dance like you like it, and maybe we let you stay here instead of going down to the pits."

"So you can just kill Velek instead? No thanks."

"Is he your mate?"

She didn't answer immediately. Of course Velek wasn't her mate, but she wondered whether it was to her advantage to admit that. The orange Caitian's eyes drifted to something immediately behind her and a man began speaking in Caitian. Whatever he was saying, he sounded panicked and soon the other Caitians in the room were on their feet and talking amongst themselves.

A loud explosion rocked the building, sending dust raining down from the rafters and light fixtures. Through the window, an orange blaze raged in the barren desert outside. Pandemonium ensued. She was shoved into the arms of a man in a black uniform and dragged down the hall while the Caitian men raced for the exits.

"What's happening?" she screamed at the guard. "Let me go!"

A second explosion outside shook the building again and for a brief instant, her captor jumped in surprise. Mavis took the opportunity to let go of the sheet around her body, twist and crouch, and escape his grasp. She ran as fast as she could manage in her ridiculous Vulcan love slave outfit but to her astonishment, the guard made no attempt to catch her. Apparently, he had his own problems.

She half-ran, half stumbled down a flight of stairs and exited the building into a warzone. She was nearly mowed down by a man on a hoverbike and had to leap out of the way to avoid being killed. When she looked back, she saw it was being piloted by a cackling Nausicaan with a shoulder-mounted plasma canon.

"Mavis!"

She scrambled to her feet and saw Velek and another Nausicaan racing toward her. He slowed as he caught sight of her and a strange look came over his face, like he was trying hard to both look at her and not look at her. She crossed her arms over her chest to cover her breasts. The Klingon uttered a throaty sound that sounded like a cross between a growl and a giggle.

"Are you- did they-" Velek sputtered.

"I'm _fine_ ," she said. "What the hell is going on?"

"We're getting out of here," the Klingon said. "But first, I'm taking my revenge."

He grabbed a Caitian fleeing from the building by the scruff of the neck and body-slammed him into the sand. Velek nodded toward the other end of the building and said, "We have to get out of the open. Let's go."

She fell in behind him, so keyed up that she barely noticed her scanty clothing was doing little to contain the more private areas of her body in the face of rigorous exercise. He held out an arm to stop her once they reached the edge of the building, preventing her from running into two Caitian women being chased by a furious Gorn woman armed with a phaser in one hand and a makeshift spear in the other.

Velek pulled her into the shadows and pointed toward a destination in the distance. "Jaaro wants to steal a shuttle. We need to get to that landing pad."

" _Who_?"

"One of the Nausicaans."

"We're throwing in our lot with the _Nausicaans_?"

"We're getting out of here."

He turned to look at her, then quickly turned around and started unbuttoning his uniform shirt. He handed it to her over his shoulder and said, "Here, put this on."

She glanced down, mortified to realize the sheer robe had sprung open and the outline of her breasts was clearly visible. She snatched the shirt from his hands and quickly stuffed her arms through the sleeves to cover herself. The shirt barely hid the bottoms of her buttocks, but it was so much better than nothing.

"Thank you," she mumbled, once the top button was fastened.

He slowly twisted around and upon realizing she was now _slightly_ more appropriately dressed, he nodded. "I didn't look, I promise."

"Velek?"

"Yes?"

"I _did_ see you, you know, through the two-way mirror in the lavatory in your quarters."

"I know."

"I didn't want to look, I just- I guess we're even now."

"Perhaps we could end this conversation and turn our attention to our escape."

Mavis bobbed her head. They were busting out of Cait with a Nausicaan getaway driver. Nausicaans didn't have the best reputation for calm and rational behavior so she wasn't sure she liked this plan, but she didn't have a better one. It was slow and terrifying work dodging the expanding violence around them. The Caitians had apparently found their armory and were now putting up one hell of a fight, and more than once they were forced to duck for cover behind vehicles and other equipment to avoid being hit in the crossfire.

When they reached the landing pad, the ramp of the largest shuttle descended, revealing a Xindi reptilian and the Gorn woman they had seen earlier. She was covered in blood and her eyes were glowing with satisfaction.

"We almost left without you!" the Xindi shouted, closing the ramp behind them as the thrusters engaged.

"Are they on board?" someone shouted from the forward cabin.

"Go!" cried the Xindi.

And they went. Two Nausicaans, two Xindi reptilians, a Gorn, a Klingon, a Romulan, and Velek and Mavis on a stolen Caitian ship, bound for anywhere and nowhere.


	8. Buddy and Buster Take a Blood Oath

**Stardate 2257.198  
** **Location: Caitian Sector**

"We can't get the shuttle into warp!" bellowed the Romulan. His eyes darted around the rear cabin as if searching for someone to blame, but came to an abrupt stop when they scanned over Mavis. He smiled. "You aren't wearing any trousers."

She crossed her arms over her chest and retorted, "Yeah, I noticed."

Velek didn't like something in the man's tone and was pondering working up the nerve to tell him so when one of the Xindi behind him said, "I have experience with generating warp fields."

"I don't know much about warp theory, but I can turn a wrench too," Mavis added. "Pants or not."

The Romulan's smile broadened. "Well then, you're cordially invited to the engine room."

As Mavis, the Romulan, and the Xindi descended into a portal in the floor, presumably where the engines were located, he heard the Romulan ask, "What's your name?"

"Mavis."

"Nice name. I'm Aeran."

The rest of their conversation was drowned out by the shouts of Kovos, the Klingon. "This ship has no weapons!"

"Calm down!" Jaaro shouted from the pilot's seat in the forward cabin. "We'll get out of this."

The other Nausicaan, Lunda, replied, "There are three ships in pursuit and I can't find anything that looks like shielding technology."

"What did you expect?" Jaaro barked. "This is a private civilian transport vessel, not a ship designed for outrunning the feds."

The pandemonium swirled around him and Velek felt completely extraneous to the mission of escaping Caitian space. He knew nothing of spaceflight or ship operations, so he mostly clung to the corner of the rear cabin. When the Gorn shouted at him to make himself useful or get out of the way, he got out of the way because he couldn't contrive a way to make himself useful.

He found a storage locker in the rear cabin and ducked inside, but the moment he did, he heard a soft squeak. It took his eyes several moments to adjust to the darkness but he quickly discerned a figure hunched in the corner.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Who are _you_?"

She spoke excellent Standard, but her tongue rolled the r in _are_ in a distinctly Caitian fashion. He found the light switch on the wall and illuminated the room. A yellow eye peered at him from under her arm. She was clearly surprised to find herself face to face with a Vulcan. Neither of them offered any explanation of their identity for a number of seconds before she finally said, "Would you believe me if I said I was a journalist?"

"Is that the truth?"

"Yes," she breathed, raising her face to reveal a long, thin, face covered with a patchwork of black and orange fur. "I've been working on a story about the illegal arenas for months now. How- how did you get on board?"

"Myself and several of the other captives staged an escape and commandeered this shuttle."

"Oh my stars," she gasped, extracting a device from her shirt pocket that looked like a tiny pad. "Did you see the Vice Chancellor? Is he on board?"

"Who?"

"Vice Chancellor Sershess. This is his personal shuttle."

"Are you referring to the second most powerful individual on Cait?" Velek replied, finding her claim extraordinary.

"Yes. He's one of the arena's biggest donors, or at least I think so. It's hard to tell with his creative accounting. Would you be willing to give me an interview about your experiences? On the record?"

"Right now? In this supply closet? As we're attempting to escape from Caitian space?"

"Is there a better place we could talk?"

Velek shook his head. The floor beneath him surged in a familiar way, suggesting they finally got the warp drive online.

"Can you just tell me how many others are there? Also, how were you treated? Did you ever see any high-ranking officials? How long have you been on Cait?"

Velek held his hands up. "I will do my best to answer your questions, but perhaps you might try asking fewer of them, or at least giving me a chance to respond. I also have many questions of my own."

"Yes, naturally," she agreed, giving him what appeared to be a sympathetic nod. "How long were you held on Cait?"

"I arrived yesterday from an Orion slaver's market."

Her eyes glowed with obvious excitement. "I knew there was a connection with the Orions but I couldn't ever prove it."

"What is your name?" Velek asked.

She nodded and turned over her left palm, which he understood to be the traditional Caitian greeting. "Sahirce. Federation News Service."

"I am Velek. I am a member of Ambassador Sarek's staff."

Sahirce stroked the whiskers on the left side of her face. "There was a Vulcan ambassador rescued a few weeks ago from…."

"The Regulan sector?" Velek prompted, hopeful she was referring to Ambassador Sarek.

"I _think_ so," she mused, tugging at her whiskers. "The story came across in the daily newswire. I remember finding it because there was a suggestion they may have inadvertently crossed into Orion space and as I already mentioned, I've been trying to find an Orion tie to the fighting pits."

"Ambassador Sarek is alive?"

"I'm guessing he's your boss?"

"Yes."

"Maybe."

"Do you recall mention of any other survivors?"

"Not really. Stories like that crop up all the time. I just scanned the major details and when I didn't find information pertinent to my investigation, I moved along."

"Can your PADD receive and transmit for you to find out?" he asked.

She sighed an lifted the PADD and began tracing her smooth hands across the screen, occasionally tapping one of her sharp nails on the side of the device.

"Here," she said, turning the PADD around for him to read.

****_Stardate 2257.178_  
**_Press release  
_ ** ****_Vulcan Diplomatic Service_

_Two are dead after the destruction of the VDS Nor Kala'th in the Regulan sector yesterday. Initial reports suggest the vessel was attacked by Orion pirates after crossing into Orion space, but the Orion government denies any involvement. The VDS Nor Kala'th was the official vessel of Vulcan Federation Ambassador-at-Large Sarek. Among the deceased are a junior member of the ambassador's staff and a refugee from Yakara II. Names are being withheld pending notification of next-of-kin._

"They think we're dead," Velek whispered.

"Well, go home and correct the record," Sahirce shrugged. She gently extracted the device from his hands, switched back to recording mode, and asked, "Can you confirm that this ship of yours really was attacked by Orion pirates?"

Velek's mind was still reeling and before he could even consider her question, the door slid open and Kovos the Klingon grabbed Sahirce by her neck and dragged her from their hiding place. "A stowaway!"

"Stop!" Velek cried, tripping as he tried to exit the storage locker.

Sahirce's eyes were bulging and Kovos' grip around her neck was so tight she appeared incapable of drawing in air.

"She is one of them!" Kovos screamed, lifting her from the floor by her neck.

"What's this?" the Gorn asked.

"She's a journalist!" Velek shouted, trying to pry Kovos' hands open. "She was trying to expose those people!"

Sahirce eyes began to roll back into her head. Kovos howled, "What is she doing on this ship?"

"Let her go before you kill her," Velek pleaded.

Kovos dropped Sahirce unceremoniously. She bounced off the floor and vomited.

"Weak," Kovos muttered.

"What's going on?" Jaaro appeared in the doorway along with one of the Xindi. "What's the Caitian doing here?"

"I believe she stowed away on this vessel," Velek explained, trying to position himself between Sahirce and the others. "She's a journalist from the Federation News Service and she was investigating the illegal fighting arena we just escaped from."

Jaaro's eyes narrowed. "Does she have any proof?"

"Everything about her behavior suggests she is who she says she is," Velek replied, stooping down to check on the shaking woman by his feet who was gasping for air. "She has a recording device."

"Look me up," Sahirce choked. "I won- Davis prize- journalism- 2255."

Jaaro exchanged glances with the Xindi, who disappeared into the forward cabin, presumably to investigate Sahirce's claims while Kovos picked up her miniature PADD. Sahirce regarded the Klingon with a stern yet apprehensive look. "Please, don't delete my files. I have a crucial interview with a dockworker on there."

Kovos grunted and wrapped his large hand around the device. Several moments later, the Xindi returned and handed a device to Kovos, who held it up. His eyes darted between the screen and the woman in front of him as he began to read.

"Sahirce L'Presa, investigative journalist for the Federation News Service. Won Davis prize for investigative journalism for a series on Federation customs personnel smuggling weapons from the Romulan Star Empire. Embedded with Starfleet during the Federation-Klingon War." He lowered the PADD and glared at her. "I was aboard the _Tol'ok_ , you know."

Her whiskers trembled. "You were there for the Slaughter at Septra?"

"Yes," he replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft for a Klingon. "I was the weapons officer."

"I would love to talk to you about that experience. I'm sure people would want to hear the other side of the story."

"I killed twelve thousand people," he said with a bitter laugh. "No one wants to hear that story from the Klingon side."

"Damn, I thought _I_ was an asshole," Jaaro yawned in the doorway. "So are we killing the journalist or what?"

"You cannot kill her," Velek interjected, shocked at the man's flippant suggestion. "She's done nothing wrong."

Jaaro gestured to himself. "If it were up to me, I'd keep her around. I bet she has some wild stories and I _do_ love a good story. But it isn't up to me. Or rather, it isn't _only_ up to me."

"Explain," Velek replied.

Jaaro looked around, his eyes pausing on each person present. "I get that details were a little fuzzy in the heat of the moment, but now that we're warping across the quadrant, has anyone given any consideration to where we should go? Who should be in charge?"

Tension flooded the tiny cabin and Velek thought he saw both Kovos and Jaaro stand a little taller. They were approximately the same size and if they decided to come to blows, it would be a spectacular fight. Perhaps even one worthy of an illicit Caitian arena.

"The plan was to retrieve my shuttle," Kovos growled.

"And Nausicaa is on the way to your shuttle," Jaaro replied. "What's the harm in dropping us off?"

"So we can be forced to submit to Nausicaan feudal law when we arrive?" the Xindi asked.

"You are my equals," Jaaro explained. "You helped me escape."

" _I_ didn't help you escape." Sahirce's voice sounded crumpled. "I would prefer not to end up in slavery in Nausicaa."

"It is not slavery," Jaaro insisted.

"What else do you call forcing people to work and giving them only enough food and shelter to survive?" Aeran the Romulan's head was poking through the lower hatch.

"If we're going to Nausicaa to be sold into servitude, I would rather return to Cait and take my chances in the arena with you," the Gorn woman added, taking a menacing step toward Jaaro.

Velek had studied Nausicaan feudal law in some of his introductory sociology classes. There had been similar institutions in the histories of many developing societies, twelfth century Andoria and Medieval Earth, for example, but the Nausicaans were among the only known warp-capable civilizations to continue to practice the unjust institution.

Aeran, Mavis, and the other Xindi returned from below deck and they all regarded Sahirce with a hint of suspicion but said nothing. Velek was pleased to see Mavis had donned a set of coveralls. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lunda, the other Nausicaan, casually leaning in the doorway, one hand resting against the doorjamb and the other gripping a phaser. How small the room was and how exposed he felt.

Jaaro held up his hands and grinned—or at least what Velek _thought_ was a grin under all those exposed teeth—and said, "Everyone's blowing this out of proportion."

"Are we?" Aeran asked. He took a half-step forward and Velek caught sight of something in his right hand. Probably a phaser.

Time began to slow. A phaser fight in such a confined area with a lot of reflective surfaces would surely result in heavy casualties, and as much as Velek didn't want to go to Nausicaa to toil away the rest of his life in the bottommost rungs of a Nausicaan caste system, he also didn't want to die and he didn't want his Nausicaan pilot to die either because no one else aboard seemed capable of flying the ship.

Soon there were several phasers being pointed in all directions and Kovos the Klingon had ripped a handrail off the wall, probably to use as a blunt weapon. Somehow, Velek found the courage to speak, even if his voice came out in an uncharacteristic octave.

"It seems to me that we all need each other to get anywhere so killing one another because we can't choose a destination will be counterproductive."

Every eye in the room turned to Velek but no one lowered their weapons. A high degree of un-Vulcan nervousness compelled him to keep talking. "Lunda flies the ship, and the warp engines are maintained by Aeran, Mavis, and-" He pointed at the Xindi man. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"Gary."

Everyone shifted their gaze to the Xindi reptilian lazily leaning against the back wall. The Gorn woman sneered, "Your name is _Gary_?"

"No," he shrugged. "My given name is X'lochitopl'it. One of my first jobs out of school was on a Terran cargo vessel. The humans started calling me Gary because they couldn't say my name and said I looked like a famous human actor."

"Gary Gilmore?" Velek suggested, thinking there was a very vague resemblance, mostly due to the Xindi's constant scowl.

Gary pointed at Velek and smiled. "That's it."

Everyone turned to look at him again, their weapons drooping a few degrees from their original positions. "How do _you_ know that?" Mavis asked, gripping a spanner so tightly her knuckles were white.

Aeran added, "Watch a lot of Terran cinema, do you?"

He could feel his ears burning. He _did_ watch a lot of Terran cinema, but he preferred to keep one of his deepest, darkest secrets buried as far down in his consciousness as possible. To change the subject, he looked at the others in turn. "Maybe we should introduce ourselves. My name is Velek. I'm a personal assistant on the staff of a Vulcan ambassador-at large."

Sahirce raised one of her paw-like hands. "Sahirce. I'm a senior correspondent for the Federation News Service in Cait."

Mavis cleared her throat and dropped the spanner to her side. "Mavis. Just Mavis."

The Gorn woman sighed and lowered her phaser. "Name's Ahlis."

"What do you do, Ahlis?" Velek asked, thrilled his mediation tactics seemed to be working.

She glared at him. "I prefer not to say."

The other Xindi reptilian returned his phaser to its holster and muttered, "I'm Z'laloctix'mril." Upon seeing the dismay in the others' faces at trying to dissect all those syllables he added, "Most other species call me Zal."

"Do you want to tell us something about yourself, Zal?" Velek asked.

He glanced at Alis and frowned. "Prefer not to say."

"I'm Aeran," the Romulan man said, his customary smirk washing over his face. "And my profession is also 'prefer not to say.'"

"Most of you know me already," Jaaro said, pointing his phaser at the floor but keeping it handy. He looked at Sahirce and said, "For those who don't, I'm Jaaro."

"And I'm Lunda," the other Nausicaan said from the doorway.

"And there's really nothing about us worth sharing," Jaaro added, holstering his phaser. "Just want to get home to Nausicaa."

"I am Kovos," the Klingon said, dropping the handrail on the ground with a loud clang. "I defected from the Klingon Empire and now I am a pirate with Aeran."

"You're not supposed to tell people that," Aeran groaned.

"It is the truth," Kovos growled. "I have dishonored myself and my house and I continue to do so by engaging in piracy."

Aeran sighed. "Whipping your own back won't make you any stronger."

"A proposition," Ahlis declared, stepping toward the center of the impromptu semi-circle. "We should go to the Metropolis."

"Not a bad idea," Zal shrugged. He glanced at Gary, who also nodded.

"The Metropolis is fifteen lightyears out of the way of Nausicaa," Jaaro complained.

"Yes, but it's good neutral ground and you can get back to Nausicaa from there," Gary rebutted, his eyes flicking back in Jaaro's direction.

"Excuse me, what is the Metropolis?" Velek asked.

"It's a haven for criminals in the no man's land between the Orion and Taugan sectors," Sahirce said quietly.

"Or a sanctuary for people who have a tendency to be misunderstood," Aeran insisted. "Depends on how you look at it."

"If we go to the Metropolis, who gets this ship?" Gary asked. "We're the ones who seized it."

"Only because we were keeping the Caitians off of you," Kovos grumbled, gesturing to the Nausicaans and Ahlis.

Velek was just thinking none of it would have been possible if he hadn't subdued the guard with a Vulcan nerve pinch and stolen his access cards to free the other prisoners, but Mavis decided it was her turn to speak. "What if no one got the ship? Can we sell it when we get to the Metropolis and split the money?"

Lunda gave a half-smile and a shrug. "Ship like this would be worth a lot in the Metropolis."

"So we're agreed then?" Ahlis asked. "We go to the Metropolis, sell this ridiculous luxury yacht, split the profit equally, and go our separate ways?"

"What about the journalist?" Lunda asked. "She didn't do anything other than hide in a closet. Are we cutting her in?"

"I don't need your money," Sahirce retorted. "If you'll be kind enough to get me to the Metropolis, I can find my own way home."

"I agree to this plan," Aeran said.

"Me too," Mavis added.

"There is no honor among thieves," Kovos replied, scowling at them.

"Are you calling us thieves?" Zal asked, his voice icy.

Velek sensed another fight brewing and when Kovos withdrew a tiny knife from his cargo pocket, everyone flinched and raised their weapons once again. Kovos surveyed the room and said, "I propose we take a blood oath, to honor our commitment to each other and to one day take our revenge upon the Orion and Caitian dogs who enslaved us."

He drew the blade across his palm and a spring of red blood oozed from the wound. He held his palm high for all to see. Velek wasn't sure what this gesture was supposed to accomplish and wanted to point out that the Caitians were a feline species rather than a canine one. Jaaro took the knife from Kovos, his face serious. "I've never known a Klingon to go against his word. I too want revenge. You have my promise we will reach the Metropolis and that we will meet again one day to deliver our vengeance."

He carved a similar wound into his hand and passed the knife to Lunda, who gave a solemn nod and sliced open his own left palm and raised it for the others to observe. Ahlis followed suit, as did the Xindi, and by the time the knife came to Aeran, he sighed and said to Kovos, "This is the third blood oath you've made me take in as many months. It's starting to get old. You need to learn to let things go." But like the others, he cut his palm and held it out.

He passed the knife to Mavis. Velek was feeling extremely uncertain about this. He had promised Mavis they would expose the Caitians and it seemed to him that Sahirce was a perfect avenue for such a task, but swearing a Klingon blood oath to take revenge? It was extreme, not to mention unsanitary. Who knew what possible communicable diseases could be running through the bloodstreams of the others, just waiting for an opportunity to jump species?

Mavis tightened her jaw and cut her palm. Velek's fate was sealed. She tossed him the knife, which he dropped. The others laughed and without stopping to think about it any further, he cut himself and displayed the bright green blood of his ancestors to the others. He handed the knife to Sahirce, whose bulbous yellow eyes held a lot of obvious conflict.

"Ordinarily I would prefer to be an impartial observer, but this seems important," she said nervously, making the tiniest of cuts in the pad of her foot.

"So that is that," Kovos shouted, laughing. "We are bound by blood."

"Yeah, great," Jaaro huffed, sucking the blood from his hand. "But who's in charge?"

"Have you ever heard of Xindi astral law?" Zal asked.

"You mean you want us to _choose_ our captain?" Aeran asked mockingly.

"We would elect a captain and two first officers," Gary explained to the group. "We follow the decisions of the captain but the two first officers can elect to override the captain's decision, or a two thirds majority vote of the rest of the crew can override either the captain or first officers."

Velek thought this system seemed incredibly democratic and was pondering the merits and drawbacks of such an arrangement when he noticed the others were already jockeying for votes. Three minutes later, after a discussion about how to best divide power among the various factions and species present, the ship was under the command of Kovos, with Jaaro and Mavis as first officers. He stole a glance at Mavis and thought the expression of terror and pride written on her face made her more beautiful than she'd ever been.

* * *

**Stardate 2257.206  
** **Location: Edge of the Caitian Sector**

Zal's eyes narrowed as he studied Mavis. She refused to be intimidated. Gary, Ahlis, and Aeran watched with nervous excitement.

"What you got?" Mavis asked.

The tiniest of smiles rolled across his lips as he fanned out his cards, all but one of them bearing the skull-like symbol with a circle around it. She might not be able to read the Nausicaan language, or _any_ language, really, but she was good enough at Tongol to know it was a dazzling hand. Her face fell.

"I almost feel bad taking your money," the Xindi man grinned, reaching across the table to take the odd assortment of coins, jewelry, and raw dilithium ore that had been used for wagering. Mavis let his hands touch the great bounty on the table before she fanned out her cards and laid them down.

"Eights over fours," she said smugly.

A week of card and dice games in the rear cabin had taught her Zal was a pretty sore loser, so she snatched her loot and headed for the door. "G'night."

"Mind if I walk with you?" Aeran asked.

"You want to walk me nine meters to my room?" she laughed.

"No, he wants to _ho'chitl_ ," Zal shouted, his anger over losing for the third night in a row elevating his voice.

Mavis had picked up a few words of the Xindi reptilian language—and Klingon, Nausicaan, Romulan, and Gorn for that matter—that the universal translator couldn't quite digest. She knew that _ho'chitl_ was an extremely crude Xindi term for having sex.

She was usually pretty on the ball when it came to snappy comebacks, but the insinuation that Aeran wanted to have sex with her was so mortifying that the gears of her mind ground to a standstill while her face flushed and her palms began to sweat. Aeran was twenty years older than her and not bad-looking, but she'd never really thought about him that way until just then.

"Let's go," Aeran suggested, gently grabbing her elbow.

They passed by the forward bridge, where Sahirce was interviewing Jaaro and Lunda, both of who were wearing long scarves over their faces to conceal their identities from the camera. They were in the middle of telling her how they had once nearly been caught smuggling thousands of kilograms of urkath into Babel. Mavis was thankful to eavesdrop on their interview and get her mind off of what Zal had just suggested.

The Nausicaans were in the business of drugs. Mavis had her opinions about it, especially considering what drugs and alcohol had done to people in Nebor's End, but Jaaro and Lunda were both good guys who were just trying to support their families under the brutal Nausicaan feudal government. Besides, they were hardly the only morally questionable people on board.

Gary and Zal were mercenaries, Ahlis was a professional bounty hunter, and Kovos and Aeran were pirates, smugglers, or whatever paid the bills at any given time. Aside from Sahirce and Velek, pretty much every single person on this ship had killed people and would do so again without hesitation if necessary, but she didn't have it in her to be afraid of them. She often wondered if that was a mistake.

They came to a stop outside the cabin she shared with Velek. The _Onca_ , the yacht they stole from Caitian Vice Chancellor Sershess, had six sleeping compartments designed to accommodate four passengers plus two compartments with double bunks for four crewmembers. The luxury cabins were spacious and gorgeously decorated. The crew cabins were far smaller but still perfectly adequate and Mavis would have preferred to have one of those to herself rather than share one of the larger rooms with someone else, but Aeran and Gary laid claim to the private suites first.

Naturally she chose to bunk with Velek when they were hammering out room assignments; he was safe and familiar and these other people were strangers. But during the course of their journey these past days, she'd come to know and love each of her fellow renegades while Velek kept mostly to himself. Why didn't Velek try harder to fit in? Even Sahirce knew how to throw back a few drinks and have fun with her random assortment of companions.

"Sorry about Zal. He's drunk and he just lost a lot of money."

She blushed and glared at the floor. After a few seconds, Mavis snapped, "Why would he say that? It's not like it's _true_."

Aeran smiled his usual handsome, sly smile and said, "I don't know about you, but I wouldn't mind getting to know you better."

For the second time, she found herself too stunned to be witty. "I- I should- I'm gonna go."

She fumbled with the entry to the door and practically fell into the room. Embarrassment throbbed in her face and radiated out through her ears and cheeks as the door slammed behind her. A man just said he wouldn't mind getting to know her better. A very attractive man. A Romulan man, no, a Romulan _pirate_. What was she doing?

She dumped her winnings on the bed and flopped down, ignoring Velek in the corner and ignoring the fact that she was currently in possession of more money than she'd ever had during the course of her entire life. Velek was meditating as usual, and she was probably being far too loud, but she didn't feel like being a courteous roommate at the moment.

He'd been more uptight than usual lately. The others weren't allowing communications in or out of the ship, which was understandable because most of them had warrants out for their arrest in one jurisdiction or another. He was mostly distraught at the fact that he was believed dead. He worried about his parents because he was their only son, but she'd never heard him make mention of any friends, girlfriends, or wife.

Mavis didn't care about being legally dead one way or another. No one would be racing over to Nebor's End to send her father condolences. It hurt a tiny bit to think that he would probably be sad when he did eventually find out. Maybe he would finally go all the way and drink himself to death. Mavis rubbed her forehead and sighed. She was getting a headache.

"You appear to have done well for yourself tonight," Velek finally mused. "You are quite the master at Jel'epst."

"We were playing Tongol."

"You are growing very close to these strangers."

"Yeah, that's how people stop being strangers," she quipped. "You get to know them."

"These people cannot be trusted. I believe they are criminals."

"Of _course_ they're criminals, Velek. What do you want me to say?"

She sat up and stared at him.

"I thought you wanted to get out of your situation in Nebor's End to better yourself, not become a criminal."

"You don't know what you're talking about," she spat. "I haven't done anything wrong. We play card games. Getting along with criminals doesn't make me a criminal."

"No, it does not," he agreed. "But you are impressionable."

Her face was growing hot once again, this time out of irritation rather than embarrassment. "Are you about to give me the speech about how I'm young and dumb? Because we're the same age."

"Your path is yours to choose, but if I were you, I would devote more of my time to preparing to live in a world beyond Nebor's End and the _Onca_."

"What do you think I've been doing? I work fourteen-hour days in the engine room with Gary and Aeran."

"And I am sure it has been very educational, but have you read any of the manuals on warp theory Gary gave you?"

She gritted her teeth and fought back a barrage of insults. He knew she was basically illiterate. Was he making fun of her?

"I understand you have some difficulty with reading," he added quickly. "I lack your knowledge of warp theory, but I would be willing to tutor you with reading so you could learn more about it."

"What makes you think I want your help?"

"I sense you are becoming defensive."

"You know, announcing how people are feeling, especially when they're humiliated or angry, usually just makes them more humiliated or angry," she rebutted, fighting back furious tears.

"I agree that you are embarrassed, but there is no logic in being embarrassed about receiving a poor education. Personally, I would rather be embarrassed that I once couldn't read rather than be embarrassed that I was currently illiterate. And you are, after all, one of this ship's first officers."

She picked up the PADD from the nightstand that contained the books and manuals on warp theory Gary recommended to her. The pride in her wanted to throw it at his arrogant face and the desperation in her wanted to beg him to teach her to read the things it contained. When he stood and approached her, she handed it out to him, pursing her lips and shifting her body to sit on her hands.

He took a seat next to her and closed _Naughton's Guide to Matter/Anti-Matter Propulsion_. He searched through the other files on the PADD before deciding on a book titled _Buddy and Buster are Best Friends_.

"That looks like a story for little kids," she said, her voice strained and exasperated.

"It is a primer designed to help people learn to read," he corrected. "The words are shorter and simpler."

"Yeah, because _I'm_ simple."

"Children must learn to crawl before they can walk and walk before they can run," he said, ignoring her attempt at self-deprecation. He scrolled past the cover, which featured a brown and white dog and a yellow duck splashing in a pond and made his way to the first page. "Do you know the Standard alphabet?"

"Yes," she mumbled through tight lips. "I know what all of these letters are, but I just never really understood why they make different sounds depending on what other letters they're next to."

"Phonics," he said. "We'll come to that."

It took them more than an hour to get through _Buddy and Buster_ , but Velek was a patient teacher and she had to admit that after a while, she was almost enjoying it. His tone was as it always was, neutral and indifferent, never mocking or teasing, and that helped her relax. They read all about how Buddy barked and Buster quacked and when they were done, Mavis could finally say she had read a book.

"Can we do another one?" she asked.

"It is quite late and I believe your shift in the engine room starts in four hours."

"I can skip it," she insisted. "There's never much to do. It's a brand-new warp drive. Runs like a pup."

"You are one of the ship's first officers," he reminded her. "It would be inappropriate for you to shirk your duties."

"Shirk my duties?" she laughed.

"It means to-"

"I know what it means," she interrupted. "Shirking work is a pretty common thing in Nebor's End. Can I ask you something?"

"Other than the question you just asked?"

She closed her eyes and gave a thin-lipped smile. "Why did you vote for me? You know, when we were voting for officers?"

"The vote for you was unanimous."

"You probably would have been the better choice. You're smart. You can at least read."

"And you are learning to read," he replied. "Furthermore, you have a talent for interacting with people, which is a highly relevant skill for a position in leadership."

"You think I'm a good leader?" she asked.

"When you're not attempting to avoid work, yes."

She laughed. "How did you learn to read so good?"

"Well," he corrected. She gave him a quizzical look. "My parents worked very hard to educate me and send me to the best schools. I have attended school since age three and received a well-rounded education in the sciences, history, music, and mathematics."

"Ugh, I envy you that kind of education."

"I have never thought of myself as someone who should be envied." His voice was soft and contemplative.

"Well, maybe you should."

He gave a small nod of his head. "Perhaps we should retire for the evening. We both have a long day of work ahead of us tomorrow."

Mavis grimaced. Velek was very well-educated, but he lacked any skills relevant to running a ship and as a result, had been assigned to scrub injectors and clean latrines alongside Sahirce. He stood but before he could go back to his side of the room she said, "Velek?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for helping me with reading."

"You are welcome, Mavis."

He crawled onto his mattress on the other side of the room and Mavis shut out the lights, but she couldn't bring herself to sleep. Confusing feelings about Aeran and her father in Nebor's End and what waited for her after they arrived in the Metropolis two weeks from now conspired to keep her awake.

Maybe she shouldn't have run away from home and left her father all by himself. It had been selfish, sure, but so was her father. All those years he spent drinking when his little girl was growing up and needed him. And maybe a Romulan pirate wasn't the best choice of partner, but he sure was fun. Why, _why_ had she run away from Aeran at the first sign of interest? It was probably for the best. She knew well enough from a lifetime in Nebor's End that guys like Aeran were good for little but lots of trouble mixed in with the occasional good time.

She knew if she ever wanted to be in a relationship, which she didn't, she would need to find someone kind and dependable. Someone soft and smart, someone like Velek. Her face suddenly burned hotter than it ever had.

Of course she didn't mean she should be with _Velek_ , just someone _like_ him. Maybe someone like him with a better sense of humor who didn't need to be told when someone was being sarcastic. Velek was such a nice guy, but…he was a bit naïve and so unemotional. She tossed and turned for several more hours and when the clock on the nightstand read 0540 hours, she threw her exhausted legs over the side of the bed, dressed in a hurry in the dark, and fled to the engine room, eager for some distraction.


	9. The Moral Compass Calibration

**Stardate 2257.211  
** **Location: Edge of the Taugan Sector**

Velek tried to take in a deep breath, but the respirator over his mouth and nose restricted the airflow. It was hot even by a Vulcan's standard and even his hair felt itchy. After nearly two weeks of scrubbing plasma injectors he ought to have been accustomed to it, but he could never get used to the aches brought on by hours of sitting hunched over in cramped spaces. He had only a general sense of the time, but he had at least four more hours of this menial work left.

"I can't see what the harm would be in letting me transmit my stories back to my editor," Sahirce whined. "I'm sitting on _seven_ unpublished pieces."

Velek would have preferred to work alone. He had a lot on his mind and didn't prefer the idle chitchat Sahirce loved so much. She was a journalist down to her bones and refused to rest until she'd sniffed out every minor detail of a person's background and because she never shut up, Velek felt compelled to feed her some facts from time to time, just to tame her need for information and settle her nerves. Perhaps it was time to opt for a different tactic.

"Do you not have family or friends on Cait who may be worried about you?" he asked.

He genuinely did not care about her answer and it violated every Vulcan instinct he had to pry too deeply into her life, but his sudden inquisitiveness sparked something in her.

"My family is pretty used to me disappearing for months on end," she laughed. "And my boyfriend is a geologist at a mining startup so he's gone a lot too."

"I see," Velek said, sensing the correct thing to do would be to inquire after her boyfriend, but Sahirce was not one to let the conversation turn toward herself.

"I'm sure your family will be relieved when you make it back to Vulcan," she mused. "Can't be easy for you, having everyone think you're dead."

"No," Velek murmured, wishing he could pull the respirator off his face and scratch his chin.

"Is that a, 'no they won't be relieved,' or 'no it hasn't been easy for you?'"

Velek flicked his eyes in her direction. He wasn't eager to become her next feature story. More than that, he found himself slapped by a sudden thought. What if he didn't go home?

He'd spent these past weeks operating under the assumption that he would go back to Vulcan because what else was he supposed to do, but what if he _didn't_? His whole life had been lived in the shadow of his parents' ambitions and he'd ridden a wave of mediocrity and disappointment all the way to being Personal Assistant to the Senior Aide of Ambassador Sarek, a job which couldn't be less fulfilling under any circumstances.

For the first time, his "death" did not distress him, rather, it seemed a unique opportunity to abandon a lifetime of expectation and Vulcan tradition and find his own path. He thought of Mr. Barth and the audition for _Federation Troopers_. Becoming famous would be impossible if he wanted to continue with the theory that he'd died aboard the _Nor Kala'th_ , but he could invent a new identity. He could be whoever he wanted, as long as he never returned to Vulcan. He could be free of the burden of being Vulcan.

Was such a thing even possible? The Federation collected the DNA of all citizens at birth, but so long as he stayed clear of medical facilities and kept to the right side of the law, who would ever know? It would be difficult without a passport, but he was moderately confident in the existence of a market for falsified documentation. He wouldn't be surprised if everyone aboard the _Onca_ not only knew where to get fake documents but also had such things in their possession.

Even if he did keep to himself and secure a false passport, it would be extremely difficult to get by on a major Federation planet like Earth or Rigel and as a Vulcan, he would certainly stick out. Getting work, housing, grocery coupons and so much more depended on documentation. It might be more doable on a colony world—lots of people moved to colonies to start new lives and seek new opportunities.

His mind turned to Nebor's End and he winced. Not all colony worlds were like Mavis' home planet, surely. He had visited the Vulcanis Lunar colony as a boy and found it very pleasant. Yes, with a little research, he could find a place that was large and developed enough to be comfortable yet remote enough that living on a falsified passport could be achievable.

Maybe Mavis would even agree to go with him. She never had seemed keen on the idea of going to Vulcan anyway. The temperature rose in his cheeks and he lifted a finger to scratch around the edge of his mask.

"Velek, you ok?"

He turned to see Sahirce waving at him. He gave a tiny nod and put the idea of reinventing himself out of his mind. It was impossible, not to mention _unethical_. His parents would have received a death benefit from the Vulcan government. Even without that consideration, they were still his parents and deserved to know the truth, as did T'Vika, his betrothed. The weight of personal responsibility felt like a crushing blow to his brief encounter with wild optimism.

"You're not really much of a talker," she said, crawling forward half a meter to find a new spot to clean.

"No," he agreed.

He scrubbed halfheartedly for another twenty minutes until Sahirce suggested they take a break and get some water. They crawled back through the narrow space and exited near the rear of the engine room. The temperature was at least ten degrees cooler and the air was fresh and when he pulled the respiratory from the lower part of his face, the experience almost seemed delicious. He sat on a toolbox and Sahirce returned with two cups of water and took a seat next to him.

Just as the water began to trickle down his throat, his ears detected the faint sound of the door opening over the hum of the warp drive. People came in and out of the main engine room all the time so he didn't bother to get up. When he noticed it was Aeran and Mavis, his muscles tensed. They were half-turned away from them and because both he and Sahirce were wearing dark clothing and sitting in half-shadows and mostly concealed by a Jeffries tube, he was almost certain neither Aeran nor Mavis had noticed their presence.

"I think with the modifications I suggested, we could push the engine another half warp factor," Mavis said proudly, leaning over a control panel.

Aeran's hand came to rest on Mavis' back. "A couple weeks crewing on a private yacht and you think you've got warp theory down?"

"My ideas are good." The quieter tone of her voice suggested Aeran's remark had caused her confidence to waver.

Aeran's hand traveled down to Mavis' waist and a knot formed in Velek's throat. Why would she permit him to touch her in this way?

"They are," he smiled. "And I agree with you."

His hands traveled even further down toward the rounded edges of her buttocks and only then did Mavis stiffen and shrug away from his touch. "What kind of girl do you think I am?"

"I don't think you're a girl." His smiled grew broader. "I think you're a woman."

The greener Mavis' cheeks flushed, the paler Velek's seemed to grow. He believed this exchange was referred to as flirting. He sensed it would be polite to make his presence known before Mavis and Aeran's exchange became even more intimate, but he was paralyzed by all kinds of formidable emotions he couldn't even name. In his periphery, he saw Sahirce watching the events unfold with the calm interest of a person who traded secrets for a living.

"I meant what I said the other night, you know," Aeran continued.

"What's that?"

"About getting to know you better."

Mavis bit her lip. "We should probably get back to discussing the warp engine."

"Tell me you aren't interested in me and I'll never say another word about it again," he insisted.

The silence that ensued lasted an eternity and was broken only when Aeran asked, "So if you don't answer, does that mean you _are_ interested?"

"I've known guys like you my whole life," she sighed. "Guys like you are _trouble_."

"Why do you think that?"

"You're a Romulan pirate. What's left to know?"

His playful expression faltered. "It must have been nice to grow up in the Federation with all its pristine principles."

"You have no idea how I grew up," Mavis countered.

"I'd love to know."

"I grew up dirt poor on a remote colony world," she explained. "People stole from each other. There was a brothel down the road. Half the colony was either always drunk or hooked on any number of drugs. Places like Vulcan and Earth are nice enough, but the wider Federation isn't always so great."

"I gotta tell you, neither is the Romulan Star Empire. And trust me, I know the Federation isn't always kind either. I spent two years in a secret Federation prison."

Mavis' eyebrows shot up nearly to her hairline. The growing look of concern on her face made the erratic feelings in Velek's gut churn even faster.

"Can I ask why?"

"That's what happens when you cross the Neutral Zone and get caught."

"Do you mind if I ask why you crossed the Neutral Zone in the first place?"

He chuckled. "To escape, of course."

Mavis gave him a knowing look and Aeran bobbed his head. "I used to be in an organization called the Tal Shiar. It's a secret police force. Anyway, about twelve years ago, my sister-in-law was suspected of being a traitor so they brought my wife in for questioning. She never came back."

"I'm so sorry," Mavis breathed, gently reaching out to lay a hand Aeran's forearm. The gesture probably registered as a light touch to Aeran, but to Velek, it felt like a vicious slap. "I didn't know you were married."

"I wasn't married long," he admitted. "But I did love her. You remind me a lot of her. But anyway, I got myself smuggled out of the Empire, ended up getting arrested by the feds a few weeks later, got shipped off to a space station prison, met Kovos there, broke out, and I've been hustling ever since. It's kind of hard to make an honest living when every government you can think of considers you a traitor or an enemy."

Mavis offered a small nod. "Sorry I judged you."

Aeran smiled. "No need to apologize."

Mavis moved her hand from his arm and laid it atop Aeran's hand. Velek's heart was now thundering so hard he wondered if he were on the verge of a major cardiac event. The tender moment between Mavis and the escaped Romulan convict was interrupted by Jaaro's voice wailing through the intercom.

"Mavis, you're wanted on the bridge."

Mavis' hand retracted from its perch above Aeran's and she pointed with her thumb toward the door. "I should go."

"But before you do…" Aeran grabbed her hand back, pulled her toward him, and pressed his lips against hers.

Other words may have been said, but Velek couldn't hear them through the rush of blood through his ears. Had it grown even hotter in here? Why was it so difficult to breathe? Why did things seem to be moving so slowly?

Mavis pulled away and the movement of her lips suggested she was saying something to Aeran. Her face was a deeper shade of green than he would have imagined possible, but she didn't appear to be angry or upset in any way. She drifted out of the room, leaving Aeran to study the control panel for the warp engine.

Sahirce gently tapped his shoulder and he jumped, slamming his head into the side of the Jeffries tube and sending a resonant _clang_ through the engine room. He should have felt pain, but there was none.

"Hello?" Aeran called.

"Oh, _hi_ ," Sahirce replied, standing up from behind the curve of the Jeffries tube to look him more directly in the eye.

"What are you doing over there?" Aeran asked. Velek noticed a green flush developing in the man's face.

"We just decided to take a quick break from scrubbing the plasma vents," Sahirce sighed, pointing to her respirator. "Didn't even notice you were here. Is everything ok with the warp engine?"

She was such a cool liar but Velek felt too numb to be impressed.

"Oh. Uh, yeah, engine's fine. How's it going, you know, with the cleaning?"

"It's really exciting stuff," she teased. "But it's going."

Aeran glanced at him and gave a small smile. "You doing alright, Velek?"

Velek could barely respond because he hated the man so much, but he was able to mumble, "Yes."

"That's good."

Velek grabbed his respirator and prepared to crawl back into the plasma vent. A wild urge to hurl the mask against the wall, or better yet, directly at Aeran's _face_ , surged through him but he managed to keep his composure. How could Mavis be interested in a man like that? Sure, Aeran was tall, broad-shouldered, and most people would generally consider the composition of his facial features to be symmetrical and well-proportioned, but he was a _criminal_. A defector and an escaped convict and a pirate.

Mavis was rough around the edges, but she had a sweet and gentle soul. For the past week, they'd stayed up late into the night reading through the _Buddy and Buster_ anthology. He was coming to appreciate the sound of her voice as she stumbled over longer and longer words. He was actually enjoying her company and no longer minded hearing the braying sound of her laugh.

Just as he was preparing to duck back into the vent, the intercom crackled to life again. This time it was Kovos, and his message sounded ominous.

"This is your captain speaking," he drawled. "Despite the objections of one of our first officers, we'll be taking a minor detour. Please arm yourselves and report to your stations."

* * *

Mavis slumped back in the chair at the rear of the bridge in shock. She had expected to dwell on the unexpected kiss from Aeran all day long but at the moment, it was quite far from her mind. Kovos and Jaaro were arguing tactics and technically, she had a right to voice her opinion on how they should do it, but she didn't want to do it at all.

"Play the message again," Jaaro barked.

Kovos groaned but tapped a button to initiate playback. The shaky Orion woman's voice echoed through the speakers once again.

" _This is the Orion starship Aljacor. Our warp core lost containment and we had to eject it. The aft of our ship suffered major damage and life support will fail soon. There are fourteen aboard including five children. Please, anyone out there. Help-_ "

The message cut off. Mavis shuddered.

"I say we go in slow, come in from the rear and try to mask our ship in whatever remains of their warp trail." Kovos insisted.

"It's only been thirty minutes since they sent the message, but any pirate in a fifteen light year radius will have gotten this message and be thinking the same thing we are," Jaaro declared. "We should go in fast and get out fast. No telling how long their containment will hold."

They bickered back and forth for another minute before Jaaro turned to Mavis. "Kovos and I can't come to an agreement. Will you join me in voting against him?"

"We should be _saving_ those people," she snarled. "Not robbing them."

"They're Orions," Kovos growled. "The same people who enslaved you and sold you to the Caitians and you defend them?"

"I doubt they're the same people," she said, rising to her feet. "We don't know that these Orions are slavers."

"All Orions are the same," Jaaro sighed. "I never met a good or honest one."

"People say the same about Nausicaans," she retorted.

"And people would be correct," he grinned.

"There are _kids_ on that ship," Mavis protested.

"So? We're not going to kill them," Jaaro said with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, we're just going to take their stuff," Mavis barked. "Because that's so much better."

"I am a pirate," Kovos said in a very resigned tone. "What is it you thought pirates did if not this?"

"But I'm not," Mavis replied. She looked over at Jaaro. "And I didn't think you were either. You trade in drugs."

"I trade in whatever's convenient," he shrugged. "And besides, I owe the Orions for what they did to me."

"Please, don't do this."

"I already talked to Ahlis, Lunda, Gary, and Zal," Jaaro replied smugly. "You don't have the votes to override this. This _is_ happening. It's up to you _how_ it happens."

Mavis fought back tears and wished Velek were here. He would know what to say to convince them how wrong it was to rob people on a disabled ship. Why had she agreed to serve as co-first officer?

The raid began forty-five minutes later and happened so fast that Mavis barely had time to process that it was really happening. She and Zal were instructed to remain behind on the bridge to monitor operations while Aeran stayed behind in the engine room in the event they needed to flee in a hurry. Sahirce and Velek were ordered back to their rooms under protest. She felt helpless and numb. She had an acute sense that no matter what happened, there would be no coming back from this. For the rest of her life, she would be someone who had once participated in piracy, and against helpless Orion children at that.

The open communication channel was full of the pleas and cries of Orions and the stern demands of Kovos, Jaaro, and the others. One Orion man tried to fight back and was killed and Mavis wheeled around in her seat and promptly vomited on the floor.

Zal peered down at her. "You literally don't have the stomach for this?"

"These people weren't hurting us," she gasped. Tears finally began flowing down her face.

"Neither were all of the Caitians we killed back on Cait," he replied. "You didn't seem to mind killing people then."

"I didn't kill anyone."

"No, you just let other people kill on your behalf. And you're not killing anyone _now_ , so what's the problem?"

She sat up. "Everyone at that compound on Cait was complicit in making people fight to death in an arena for entertainment. These people sent out a distress call begging for help and we attacked them."

"In this part of space, if we hadn't come along and done this, I promise someone else would have. The Nausicaans, even other Orions. And just because not all Orions are directly involved with the slave trade doesn't mean they don't all benefit from it. How do you think their government operates? No one is innocent in this life, not me, not you, not them."

"So _that's_ your philosophy?" she muttered. "Kill or be killed? Screw or be screwed?"

"I have yet to see it be proved wrong," Zal replied with a sober grin. "And we're not going to kill them if they don't fight back so calm yourself."

"How is robbing them while their ship is about to lose containment and leaving them for dead not equivalent to killing them?"

"First of all, they would have died whether or not we showed up. Second of all, who says we're going to leave them behind on that ship?"

"We don't have space for fourteen more people aboard _ours_ ," Mavis pointed out.

"By my last count, it was thirteen after that guy went after Kovos with a kitchen knife."

"How can you be so glib about this?" she snapped, her voice breaking in anger.

"Robbing a stranded Orion vessel doesn't even round out the top hundred worst things I've seen or done. Sorry it's distorting your moral compass, but that's your problem, not mine."

The communications computer chirped. " _Kovos to Zal, prepare to beam us back. Sending the coordinates now_."

The yacht had a tiny transporter pad capable of transporting a single person at a time and less than three minutes later, the rear lower deck was full of crying and shouting Orions contained in a tiny space behind a force field. Mavis followed Zal on shaking legs to investigate the scene and when they arrived, she heard Kovos and Jaaro arguing.

"We will sell them and split the profits equally, just as we plan to do with this ship," Kovos bellowed, inching toward Jaaro until their noses were mere centimeters apart.

"Not even in the Metropolis can you sell people," Jaaro replied, crossing his arms and evidently unfazed by Kovos' frustration. "Tell you what: you can keep mine and Lunda's profits from selling this ship if you give us the Orions."

" _I will not be sold_!" screamed one of the Orion men. " _I am not a slave_!"

Jaaro looked at the man, pointed his phaser at the little boy standing next to him, and shook his head in warning. The man went silent, but the weight of the threat threatened to crush her already overburdened conscience. Mavis felt ready to faint but also felt prepared to tackle the hulking Nausicaan who would threaten to hurt a little boy just to shut his father up.

"Thirteen Orion serfs are worth twice what your cut of this ship would be," Kovos reminded him.

"But unless you can sell them, they're worthless to you. And as a Klingon, you don't have the right to barter under the Nausicaan exchange."

"Less than worthless, actually," Lunda added. "Because you have to feed them."

"We all worked to capture them, and we should all reap the rewards," Kovos insisted.

"And I disagree," Jaaro argued, his tone more dangerous than ever.

They both looked to Mavis and she knew what would come next. As first officer, Jaaro had the right to challenge the captain, but he needed the support of the other first officer to overrule him. Just as before, Mavis didn't like either plan and was prepared to say so, but Velek beat her to it.

"These people are not your property to do with as you see fit. Slavery is illegal and abhorrent. This was true when the Orions enslaved us and it is just as true if we enslave these Orions."

"We're not in Federation space right now," Jaaro sneered. "And even if we were, when did the law ever stop crime from happening?"

"Just the same," Velek replied. "I do not agree to it, just as I did not agree to attacking their ship."

"We don't need your consent," Kovos replied.

"We agreed to follow Xindi astral law," Velek rebutted. "And if I understand it correctly, the first officers may challenge the decision of the captain, and if no agreement can be made between the first officers, then the matter is put to the rest of the crew for a vote."

All eyes in the room turned to Mavis. She felt like she would be sick again and couldn't stop staring at the Orions imprisoned behind the force field.

"Well, what's it going to be, Mavis?" Jaaro yawned, clearly going through the motions despite knowing what her answer would be.

"I didn't agree to the raid on their ship and I don't agree to this."

"It doesn't change anything," Kovos said. "You don't have the votes to reverse this decision, you can't-"

"I agreed to the raid," Ahlis interrupted. "But I didn't agree to this. I smuggle cargo. People aren't cargo."

"I don't agree to this either," Sahirce said, raising her paw from her position behind Velek in the short corridor. "Never did, never would."

"I say we keep them and give them to the Nausicaans to sell," Gary said, giving Jaaro and Lunda a tired look. "That way we get some profit."

"Same," Zal added.

"And I think we all know how Lunda will vote," Jaaro said, looking at his Nausicaan friend.

"So that's three for letting me and Jaaro sell them and three against enslaving them at all," Lunda announced.

" _I_ haven't voted," Aeran said. He emerged from behind Sahirce and looked around the room. His eyes landed on Kovos. "No matter what happens, you're not going to get your way, you know."

Kovos growled. "Fine. So we let the Nausicaans keep the Orions."

"I didn't say I agreed to Jaaro's plan either."

For the first time since the incident began, Mavis felt a glimmer of hope. Aeran was a pirate, but he was a good man. _Wasn't_ he?

"So you intend to vote with this petaQ?" Kovos howled, pointing at Velek.

Aeran glanced at Velek and then back at Mavis.

"You swore a blood oath!" Kovos continued.

"Aeran, please," Mavis breathed. "Aeran, please don't vote to make these people Nausicaan slaves. _Please_."

"You've made me take a lot of blood oaths, old friend," Aeran said to Kovos with a tiny, forced smile. "But if I remember correctly, the most recent one involved taking revenge on the Orions who enslaved us. We don't know who these Orions are."

"You are thinking with your penis!" Kovos shouted, marching in Aeran's direction. "Who got you out of that Federation prison? Who saved you when that Gorn freighter attacked us? Who took a knife to the ribs when you got in trouble in that bar on Terisia Prime? Who has been there for you these past years? You would throw all of that away for the affection of this _girl_?"

Aeran glanced down at his boots and then turned toward Mavis. The obvious conflict in his eyes threatened to break her. The whole room seemed to be holding its breath.

"Aeran, please," Mavis begged. " _Please_?"


	10. Double-Cross

**Stardate 2257.213  
** **Location: The Taugan Sector**

"I want to play in the park. I do not want to—" Mavis hesitated, then slowly sounded out the next word. " _Splash?_ I do not want to splash in the pond."

She turned from the PADD to Velek. " _Splash_ is such a weird word, don't you think?"

He shrugged. "It is a word."

Mavis had already read each of the Buddy and Buster stories at least twice, but this particular story about the titular characters deciding what to do on a rainy day was clearly her favorite. He believed she was ready to try more difficult reading material, but these short, simplistic children's stories made her smile. Velek couldn't be sure whether that was due to the pride she felt in reading or whether she really just liked the content that much, but he was hesitant to push her too far when she was doing so well.

Velek was anxious. He had tried repressing his worries but it was proving difficult to do. They were due to arrive at the Metropolis in less than twelve hours and he wasn't certain what would come next.

The atmosphere on the _Onca_ was tense. Space was at a premium with all the Orions aboard and a deep fissure had formed in the criminals' relationships with each other. Aeran had surprised everyone in his decision to allow the Orions to maintain their freedom, but Velek suspected it had less to do with altruism and more to do with trying to garner affection from Mavis. He also questioned whether the vote was merely symbolic and had good reason to believe that the Nausicaans didn't intend to honor the arrangement.

Velek would never say he was _grateful_ for the attack on the Orion ship that had left one man dead and thirteen others, including children, displaced and at risk of enslavement, but the incident had given her incredible insight into the moral character of these people. Ever since the raid, she hadn't spent her free time drinking and gambling but instead returned to their shared room and busied herself with reading practice or playing with the Orion children.

Velek spent his days scrubbing the ship with Sahirce, his evenings in deep meditation, and his nights helping Mavis learn to read. He'd started so many conversations in his head, asking Mavis what she planned to do once they got to the Metropolis, but no words on the subject ever made it out of his mouth because he didn't know what _he_ intended to do either.

Should he go back to Vulcan and tell his parents and betrothed not to worry because he wasn't dead after all? Go to Earth and be an actor? Disappear altogether into the populace of a distant colony world? As usual, meditation was providing no clarity and every time he believed he reached a decision, crippling doubt would invade and he would be forced to begin his deliberations anew.

Mavis was the topic that gave him the most anxiety. She was his friend. He had known her only a short time but she'd been with him throughout the most difficult trials of his life and he did not look forward to parting ways. He was willing to give colony life a try but only if she would go with him, but he doubted whether she would find the prospect of another colony appealing after having escaped Nebor's End.

"Velek?"

Her voice cut through his internal deliberations, drawing him back to the moment. She turned off the PADD and sat up on the bed. He cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"What is Vulcan like?"

"Specify."

"I'm not sure what I want to know. I've never been there, so I don't know what I don't know."

"Perhaps you could give me a general topic of interest," he proposed. "Do you wish to know about the climate—"

"The people, _mostly_ ," she interrupted. "What are the people like? Do they like living there? Do _you_ like it?"

Velek hesitated. "I can only speak for myself and I am not certain how to answer your question because until very recently, I've never lived anywhere else."

"It can't be anything like Nebor's End."

"No," he agreed. "On Vulcan I have never been hungry or without access to basic necessities such as shelter, clothing, medicine, or education. Those things are considered fundamental rights."

"The ambassador told me Vulcan is a tough place to live for people who don't follow logic."

"That is true," he answered, perhaps more quickly than he ought.

"Back when we were on your ship, I thought I would have to try to learn to fit in on Vulcan because that's where we were going and anywhere had to be better than where I came from."

"You imply that you are rethinking your decision to settle there," he replied, suddenly feeling hopeful.

She scratched her head. "I don't know if I can be logical like you. Ever since the Orions took us, I've been so focused on surviving. Didn't seem like there was any point to pondering the rest of my life if I was already on borrowed time."

"Logical."

"But then we met these people and I thought I fit in better with them. Kovos even invited me to join him and Aeran on their shuttle."

This new information was a punch to the gut. She was contemplating going with Kovos and _Aeran_? Velek gave her a tiny nod in reply, unwilling to speak and let cracks in his voice give away his true feelings.

"I understood them, or at least I _thought_ I did," she continued. "I just don't think I can stay with people who would do what they did the other day."

A tsunami of relief struck him. "No. I agree."

"But now I don't know what to do. I don't think I would fit in on Vulcan. I don't think I would fit in with pirates. I don't know anyone outside of Nebor's End except for the people aboard this ship and to be honest, most of them terrify me."

Velek was not certain _he_ fit in on his home planet, but he would never say so. "There are many options for making a life for yourself beyond the extremes of Vulcan logic and this band of outlaws."

"But how? Where?" She uttered a small chuckle, then sighed. "I don't know where to go or what I would even _do_ once I got there. I have no real education and I can still barely read."

"You are progressing quickly," he insisted. "And you are quite a skilled engineer. There are many places that would have use for such abilities."

"Thanks, but I'm really not all that great. I can tinker a little bit but trying to keep this ship running has shown me there's a lot I don't know," she laughed bitterly.

"Then seek formal education."

"I'm not even sure I _like_ engineering," she confessed. "It was just something I did to help pay the bills. Having a trade in Nebor's End was the best way to keep food in your belly."

"Then perhaps you should take time to discover your life's purpose. Utility is a function of prosperity, and it is maximized not only when an individual pursues their strengths, but also when they seek that which interests them."

"That sounds like a very Vulcan thing to say."

"It's from Surak's teachings."

"I believe you," she replied, pursing her lips. "So what do _you_ want from life?"

Velek looked down at his hands. Of all the people he might tell his darkest secret to, he supposed she would pass the least amount of judgment, but he still could not bring himself to admit his desire to become an actor aloud. "I am still deliberating."

She flashed him a soft, warm smile, making his pulse quicken and his chest feel full. In an effort to dismiss this vexing emotionality, he quickly continued. "Not all colonies are like your home planet. In fact, most are not. Many established settlements are full of opportunity."

"That's nice to know, I guess," she said. "Must be nice to have a home you can go to when this is all over."

He did not reply. This was his chance. There would never be a more convenient time than this to discuss his plans with her, but what _were_ his plans?

"Anyway, I should probably head down to engineering," she added, standing up and stretching.

Velek faltered. "At this hour?"

"I started a diagnostic earlier this afternoon and it's probably done. Not that there's anything wrong with the warp drive, but Aeran wants to make sure we get our money for this ship."

It was fascinating how the mere mention of the Romulan man's name could be so irritating. Velek began packing his few belongings after she left, feeling both optimistic and defeated. It appeared Mavis could be persuaded to try life on a new colony. This changed things, didn't it?

A sudden knock on the door interrupted his repetitive thoughts. Because the only person aboard the ship he would have welcomed seeing also occupied the room with him and therefore wouldn't have knocked, he answered it with extreme trepidation. His jaw tightened.

"Hello, Aeran. Mavis is not here."

"I know," he replied, pulling at the collar of his shirt. "I passed her on her way to the engine room. I came to talk to you?"

"I cannot imagine what we might have to discuss."

"Can I come in?"

"I would prefer that you did not."

Aeran's brow rose in clear annoyance. "Okay then, I guess I'll just say what I have to say where everyone can hear it."

Velek's facial muscles tensed further. If he were thinking logically, he would have recognized that refusing Aeran entry would result in having private matters broadcast in a public space. He stood aside to allow the man to enter and all Velek got in response from him was a curt smile as he ducked into the room.

Aeran surveyed their quarters, taking an inappropriate amount of time to study Mavis' side of the room.

"What do you want?" Velek asked.

"To talk."

"Then speak promptly and leave."

Aeran shifted a quarter turn and gazed sidelong at Velek. "I never did get the feeling you liked me all that much."

"Your assessment is correct."

"I'm not going to pretend like I don't know why."

"That is why you came to my quarters? To analyze our relationship?"

"What do you plan to do when you get to the Metropolis?"

"Why should you concern yourself with what I intend to do?"

"Because you and Mavis are close and I imagine she'll want to follow you wherever you go."

Velek's heart soared upon discovering Aeran's belief that he and Mavis shared a close relationship. "She is a free woman capable of making her own decisions."

"I know, I know," he nodded. "But my guess is, you plan to go back to Vulcan, do _Vulcan_ things, and live logically ever after."

"An odd turn of phrase, 'logically ever after.'"

"Yeah." He sighed. "Do you really think Mavis would be happy on Vulcan?"

Obviously, he didn't, but he didn't care to reveal his highly conflicted inner monologue to Aeran. "I cannot say what would make her happy."

"And maybe that's a problem, don't you think?"

"And you suppose _you_ hold the key to her happiness?"

His face lightened and he shrugged. "I think Mavis and I have some things in common, probably more in common than the two of you."

"I do not believe it is any of your business what Mavis and I have in common."

"I was going to ask her to join me," Aeran said, his tone darkening. "After the Metropolis."

"She mentioned Kovos had spoken with her," Velek responded, briskness mixing into the tenor of his own voice. "Do you intend to turn her into a pirate too?"

"As you said, she's a free woman able to make her own choice."

"What do you want from me? You want my approval?"

"I was here to feel out the situation," Aeran sighed.

"I will not grant you my blessing to lead her into a life of crime."

"I don't need your blessing."

"No, but I think you should leave."

"Yeah, I probably should. I wish you well, Velek."

Habit nearly prompted Velek to bid the man a long and prosperous life in return, but he thankfully stopped himself as the door slid closed behind the Romulan. It was petty, but Velek would prefer Aeran's life to be as short and miserable as possible. He paced in anxious circles, not even bothering to rein in his discordant emotions.

He needed to talk to Mavis, preferably before Aeran did, but what was he supposed to talk about? He slumped down on the bed. Instinct compelled him to meditate, but days of meditation had done little to improve his clarity. He took a deep breath and fell back onto the tiny bed, trying to avoid entertaining thoughts of rejection.

* * *

Dazzled would have been putting it mildly for how Mavis felt about this exciting place. The Metropolis was nothing she could have ever anticipated. She'd been picturing some seedy outpost like Nebor's End, but this was a modern hub of dozens of well-heeled species darting along moving walkways and in and out of shops. Above them, shuttles and other anti-grav vehicles navigated the airspace of the massive, self-contained space station.

It was evening and lights were cropping up on street corners and building signs. The air was dry and smelled of a mix of pleasant aromas. There wasn't a spec of dirt in sight. How was this place supposed to be some kind of criminal haven?

"This way," Ahlis called, directing them down a street to the left and onto another moving walkway.

Mavis wanted to stop and examine the machinery, but she also didn't want to get separated from the group, so she followed along, feeling drunk on the novelty of so much technology. She was certain she could spend a lifetime in this place and never stop feeling exhilarated.

They were drifting into an area that was less affluent than the previous streets but still the height of luxury compared to her homeworld. The further they walked, they less diverse the people became until nearly all of them were Gorn.

"Mavis?"

The voice was barely a whisper. She looked over her shoulder to see Velek strolling closely behind. "What's up?"

"I must speak with you."

"Okay."

"Here it is," Ahlis announced, directing the group through a narrow doorway and into a building that looked like a tavern. "Here's where we'll meet the buyer."

"And you trust this woman?" Lunda grumbled.

"She has bought from me in the past. I trust her."

The Nausicaans exchanged surly looks with each other, but they hadn't cracked even the grimmest of smiles since they'd parted ways with their Orion captives at the dock half an hour earlier. Mavis had half-expected some kind of scene, but everyone honored the agreement without a word, aside from Kovos growling at Jaaro and Jaaro clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he nodded to the Orions to get lost. And they had. They melted away into the swell of people at the docks so effortlessly that Mavis almost wondered if they'd ever existed at all.

Ahlis led them to a wide, circular booth to the left of the bar and whispered, "Wait here. I'll be back."

"We're really going to trust Ahlis?" Lunda sneered. "Gorn dealing with Gorn? Sounds like a good way to get screwed."

"I will trust her," Kovos declared. "She has always acted with honor."

"That yacht is worth at least two million credits," Lunda whined.

"Brand new, maybe," Gary replied. "We'll be lucky to get half that on the black market. Not like anyone could ever risk taking it into the Federation. It'd just get seized as stolen."

"And a million credits split nine ways, that's still over a hundred thousand each," Zal retorted. "That's enough for me."

"You have no ambition," Jaaro countered.

"Maybe we should get comfortable?" Aeran interrupted, pointing to the table.

They filed into the booth, the Xindi first, followed by Kovos, the Nausicaans, and Aeran. Mavis was happy to take a seat next to Aeran and Velek slid in next to her, with Sahirce rounding out the group.

"We should have been allowed into the negotiations, at least," Lunda moaned, pounding his fists on the table, attracting the notice of the squat Gorn bartender.

"A hundred thousand credits is more than a lot of people make in a decade," Aeran replied, shooting him a cool look. "Don't get greedy."

"He's Nausicaan," Zal laughed. "It's in his nature."

Mavis wasn't exactly sure if the credits in the Metropolis were the same as the ones in Nebor's End, but she had a feeling a hundred thousand credits in this place was more than most families back home made in a lifetime.

Velek cleared his throat. She leaned closer to him and asked, "What did you want to talk about?"

Velek's eyes landed on Aeran, who was clearly trying his best to avoid looking like he was eavesdropping. She now regretted allowing herself to be sandwiched between them; for whatever reason, neither man seemed to like the other one very much.

"I had hoped to discuss it privately," he whispered.

"Not a whole lot of privacy here," she muttered, trying to avoid moving her lips. "But we'll talk. I promise."

They group continued to bicker, the Nausicaans arguing they were being financially violated and the others insisting they were not, until Ahlis returned a few minutes later.

"My friend will offer 1.5 million credits and no more," she explained.

"Your friend is a thief," Lunda spat.

Gary chortled. "It's a generous offer. Better than I thought we were going to get."

"It's an offer I'll accept," Zal added.

"Me too," Mavis replied.

"As will I," Kovos agreed.

"Maybe the Vulcans will correct me," Lunda said, glancing at Velek. "But 1.5 million credits won't split cleanly nine ways."

"Ugh, you can have my extra credit," Sahirce snapped, squeezing her way out of the booth. "I just want to catch a ride back to Cait."

Velek followed her. Mavis, eager to be free of the growing animosity at the table, filed out behind him, as did Aeran. Ahlis left the others to their quarreling and approached.

"If you give me your biometrics, I'll transfer the money into separate Metro accounts for you," she said wearily, offering a PADD to Mavis. "Let's just get this done before one of them pulls out a phaser."

Mavis put her thumb on the screen so it could read her print and held the camera to her right eye for a retinal scan before handing the device back to Ahlis. Ahlis then passed it to Velek, who did the same.

Mavis bit her lip. "So that's 166,667 credits?"

"Thereabouts," Ahlis sighed, transferring the PADD to Aeran. "Plus or minus a few fractions of a credit, according to Lunda over there."

"Is that a lot?" Mavis asked.

"It's about five years of honest wages in these parts, or about five months of _dis_ honest ones," Aeran said.

She crossed her arms. She had the wealth of five years of work to her name and no idea what to do with it.

"Hey Mavis, can I get a word?"

She blinked and realized Aeran was gently touching her arm. "Yeah, sure."

"Mavis, I need to speak with you also," Velek insisted, stepping closer.

She looked back and forth between them, uncertain why she suddenly felt so much tension. "Um, Velek actually did ask to talk to me first."

"I'll be quick, I promise." Aeran winked at Velek.

The voices of the Nausicaans, Xindi, and Klingon were reaching a fever pitch in the corner and before Mavis could even decide what to do, the barkeep was throwing them all out. In the shuffle to get outside, Aeran grabbed her by the elbow and steered her toward the side entrance.

"Aeran, maybe we should—"

"Listen, I said I'd be quick."

She sighed, her attention more focused on two large Gorn men trying to separate Lunda and Kovos. "Okay, fine. What's up?"

"Things aren't working out with Kovos."

"Clearly." She scowled in the direction of the rapidly escalating scuffle.

"No, not just this. He got me out of prison, but he's too much of a liability. And that thing with the Orions—"

She turned back to him. "I never did say thank you for that, by the way."

He swallowed hard. "Yeah, well, you were holed up in your room ever since the raid and I—"

"Didn't seem smart to be parading around the ship with so many hot tempers."

Kovos and Lunda were all out brawling now. A small crowd was forming and she couldn't see where Velek had disappeared to in the fray. All she wanted to do was get out of here.

"Do you really want to go to Vulcan?"

She frowned. "No."

"Then don't. Stay here with me."

" _Here_? In the Metropolis?"

"Yes. Lots of people live here."

"Lots of _criminals_."

"The Metropolis does attract some criminals, but there are a lot of regular people too. It's not a bad place. It's a place someone like me could make a decent living, no piracy required. We've got plenty of money to get us started and they're always looking for handy people on the docks. I've seen you turn a wrench."

"I- I don't know what to say."

"Say yes," he pleaded.

Mavis looked around, trying not to let the sight of a broken and bleeding Gary being carried away by two Gorn men distract her. It really wasn't so bad here and Aeran really wasn't such a bad guy. She suddenly realized her hesitation to accept Kovos' invitation and join him and Aeran on their shuttle had more to do with the high-strung Klingon and their occupation as pirates than it did with Aeran as a person.

"W-what about Kovos?" she stammered, trying to force herself to get over her disbelief at his offer so she could actually give it some consideration.

"Oh, he'll be plenty pissed but he'll get over it. That is if Lunda doesn't kill him first."

"Mavis?" She nearly jumped when she realized Velek was approaching from behind. Why did she feel like she'd been caught doing something wrong?

"What's up, Velek?"

"Can we speak now?" he asked. He peered at Aeran and added, "Privately?"

She was rattled but determined not to show it. "S-sure."

They began to walk down the street and once they were about fifteen paces away she blurted, "Are you happy this is all over and you can go home?"

The muscles in his face were straining as if they were fighting back a display of a hundred different emotions. The words flowed from his mouth so quickly they seemed to slur into one. "I was thinking I wouldn't."

"Wouldn't what?"

"I was thinking I wouldn't return to Vulcan."

"I don't understand. Where else would you go?"

"I do not know, but I do know I would prefer it if you came with me."

If Aeran's offer had surprised her, Velek's was close to leaving her utterly speechless. "I- I don't get it. I thought you hated me."

"I do not hate you."

"You weren't exactly warm and welcoming when we first met."

"We are very different people," he acknowledged with a little bob of his head. "But I consider you a good friend."

"You're probably the best friend I've ever had," she sniffed, baffled by her unexpected emotionality.

"Then will you come with me?"

"I- it's just- uh- Aeran has asked me to stay here with him and—"

"I see," Velek said, cutting her off. His eyes shifted to his feet and he began to back away. His hand formed into the shape of a Vulcan salute, even if it was swift and half-hearted. "I wish you a long and prosperous life, Mavis."

"Velek, don't be like that," she said. She began to follow him, but for every step she took, he took two.

He turned and asked, "Would you prefer to stay here with him?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "It doesn't seem so bad here. Why don't _you_ stay too and we could—"

"Forgive me, but I cannot stay here if he intends to stay also."

"That's childish. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous."

Greenish hues peppered his cheeks. "Jealousy is illogical."

"Ugh, there you go with your logic again," she scoffed. "Can't you just stop being logical for two seconds and tell me what you're really thinking?"

Velek hesitated. "I don't think Aeran is who he claims to be. I believe he shows you a side of himself in an attempt to gain your affection, but I cannot trust him. You are a good person and I would not like to see you be corrupted."

It was Mavis' turn to go green in the face. "You think he's going to corrupt _me_ , like I'm just some naïve little girl?"

"I did not say that."

"Do you have any idea where I grew up, Velek? You only stayed there for a few days, but I spent an entire _lifetime_ in Nebor's End. I think I can spot someone running a scam."

"Is everything alright?" Aeran asked, coming up from behind her to place a hand on her shoulder. "Are we good over here?"

"Everything's fine," Mavis hissed between gritted teeth. "Velek was just saying goodbye."

Despite years of training his face to wear a cool mask of logic, the pain in his eyes was clear. As angry as she was, it killed her to hurt him this way. Why had she spoken out of anger? She should apologize immediately and yet, she was allowing him to walk away. He was already halfway up the street. She took several slow breaths and rubbed her forehead. She should run after him.

"Looks like Kovos is getting himself locked up for the night," Aeran sighed, watching three enormous Gorn police officers haul the furious Klingon off. "You want to get a hotel while we look for a more permanent place?"

She suddenly hated Aeran for driving her away from her dear friend. Tears started to roll down her cheeks but Aeran caught her in a hug and held her. She hated him, but his touch was a comfort and he allowed her to cry unchecked for what felt like hours. When her woes were mostly exhausted, he convinced her to follow him and before she knew it, they were checking into a lavish hotel on the swanky main boulevard of the Metropolis.

When they reached the posh suite on the thirtieth floor, Mavis' cares briefly melted away and she was immediately drawn to the glittery view of the city below, captivated by the swarms of traffic and the ant-sized people enjoying the night life of the Metropolis.

"Come and sit," Aeran insisted, throwing his bag on an overstuffed sofa. "Have a drink."

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" Mavis asked.

"Once or twice. But seriously, the view isn't going anywhere. Sit with me."

She sighed. "Are you sure you can afford this place? It's a thousand credits a night."

Aeran kicked his feet up on a nearby ottoman and patted the couch cushion next to him. " _We_ can afford it. Live a little."

Something about the way he was talking about merging their money rubbed her the wrong way but she chose not to say anything. Mavis slid over the arm of the couch and onto a seat at the opposite end from where Aeran sat. He grinned, leaned over, and shuffled into position on the seat next to her. "I'm glad you decided to stay."

"Hmmm," she said, acutely aware of her growing discomfort.

Aeran leaned in to kiss her but she jerked back. Desperate to shift away from his unwanted advance, she bounded to her feet and stammered, "Thank you again, for voting to free the Orions."

She registered confusion on his face. "Uh, _right_. You already thanked me for that."

"Well, it was a really nice thing that you did."

"I'm glad you think so." Aeran stood and approached her, but she held out a hand.

"Are you hungry?"

Aeran blinked several times. "Not really."

"How can you _not_ be hungry?" she asked, her voice oddly shrill. "We haven't eaten since last night."

"Are you hungry?" he sighed, asking the question in such a way that it was obvious he already knew the answer.

"Famished," she replied with an awkward chuckle.

"We have a replicator in the room—"

"Didn't we pass a restaurant on our way in?" She was suddenly eager to be in a public space.

"We just spent a thousand credits on a room and you want to go eat at the restaurant?"

"Please?"

Aeran rolled his eyes. "At least let me change clothes and shower. I'm covered in grease from the engine room. You should think about doing the same."

"These are the only clothes I have," she confessed, immediately self-conscious. Truth be told, she could probably use a shower too.

"There's a top-of-the-line replicator right over there," he said, pointing to the machine by the entrance. He grabbed his bag, threw a strap over his shoulder and said, "Be right back."

She wandered toward the replicator but when she was halfway there, she was startled by the unexpected sound of a _ding_ coming from the chair. She turned, surprised to discover a PADD lying face down on the black fabric. She picked it up, figuring it must have fallen out of Aeran's bag.

A little silver bubble signaled a new message and though she knew it was inappropriate to go through his private PADD, curiosity got the better of her. Was it news about Kovos? Her reading skills were still rudimentary at best, but most of the words were simple enough that she got the gist of the message, even if she stumbled over the word _recommended_. What she learned sent the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

Jaaro wrote, " _Got the Orions back. They were where you said they'd be. Keeping them sedated in the warehouse you recommended. Lunda's looking for a ship to move them to Nausicaa. You still in?"_


End file.
